WITZERLAND 



DESCRIBED BY GREAT WRITERS 



ESTHER SINGLETON 




aassJ_L>A4L 
Book__ 



55 



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1 



SWITZERLAND 



BOOKS BY MISS SINGLETON 

Turrets, Towers, and Temples. Great Buildings of 

the World Described by Great Writers. 
Great Pictures. Described by Great Writers. 
Wonders of Nature. Described by Great Writers. 
Romantic Castles and Palaces. Described by Great 

Writers. 
Famous Paintings. Described by Great Writers. 
Historic Buildings. Described by Great Writers. 
Famous Women. Described by Great Writers. 
Great Portraits. Described by Great Writers. 
Historic Buildings of America. Described by Great 

Writers. 
Historic Landmarks of America. Described by Great 

Writers. 
Great Rivers of the World. Described by Great 

Writers. 
Famous Cathedrals. Described by Great Writers. 
Famous Sculpture. Described by Great Writers. 
Modern Paintings. Described by Great Writers. 
Wonders of the World. Described by Great Writers. 
Paris. Described by Great Writers. 
London. Described by Great Writers. 
Russia. Described by Great Writers. 
Japan. Described by Great Writers. 
Venice. Described by Great Writers. 
Holland. Described by Great Writers. 
Rome. Described by Great Writers. 
Germany. Described by Great Writers. 
Switzerland. Described by Great Writers. 
Turkey and the Balkan States. Described by Great 

Writers. 
Florence. Described by Great Writers. 
Egypt. Described by Great Writers. 
China. Described by Great Writers. 
Love in Literature and Art. 
The Golden Rod Fairy Book. 
The Wild Flower Fairy Book. 
A Guide to the Opera. 
A Guide to Modern Opera. 
Dutch New York. Manners and Customs of New 

Amsterdam in the Seventeenth Century. 
How TO Visit the Great Picture Galleries. 
How to Visit the English Cathedrals. 



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SWITZERLAND 

As Described by 
Great Writers 



Collected and Edited by 

ESTHER SINGLETON 



WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS 




M- 1 II M i l' - l"! - - 11 M II M : ■ ! ■ I ■ ! ■ I V ■ ! ■ l i I- ■ { ■ V ■ ! ■ ! ■ • t"l"I - 



Dodd, Mead and Company 

1912 




Copyright, 1908, by 
DoDD, Mead & Company 
Published, November, ipo8 






-7^ 



I 



PBEFACE 

IT is inevitable that the author of a work on a country 
that is variously known as the " Playground of Europe " 
and the " Hotel of Europe," should approach his sub- 
ject in a holiday mood. Therefore, those who write about 
Switzerland rarely regale their readers with statistics of the 
country and the results of serious study of the inhabitants. 
Except in a few districts, which are difficult of access to the 
tourist, the ancient life and customs are rapidly disappearing, 
and in many places have given place to a rapacious class 
whose sole object in life is to fleece the foreigner both in 
town and village. 

The Oberland is now nothing but a panorama, a vast 
show managed and exploited by hotel-keepers of every 
nationality. There is, however, another Switzerland of 
peaceful and patriarchal life, where the traveller does not 
encounter anything conventional, commercial, vulgar, or 
disturbing. In the following pages, I have endeavoured to 
do justice to both phases of Swiss life, in drawing on the 
writings of those who have described it with picturesque- 
ness and sympathy after intelligent study. 

In the arrangement of the material I have followed the 
plan of my other books on Holland, Germany, Japan and 
Russia. 

E. S. 

New York, October, igo8» 



CONTENTS 

PART I 

The Country and Race 

The Country . , . . . . . . • I 

W. A. B. CooLiDGE AND H. A. Webster. 
The Cantons and Half-Cantons .... 8 

William Hepworth Dixon. 
The Forest Cantons . . . . . . , i^ 

J. SoWERBYo 

The Race ......... 19 

W. Hepworth Dixon. 
The Character of the Swiss ..... 24. 

John Ruskin. 



PART II 

History 

Early History ........ 29 

William Francis Collier. 
Successful Struggle for Independence . . . • 35 

Henry Hallam. 

Political History from the Renaissance to the Present 

Day 38 

j. sowerby. 



CONTENTS 



Modes of Travel 

Alpine Passes 

Avalanches 

The Bergsturz . 

Mountaineering 



PART III 

Alpine Climbing 

• « • • 

Arthur Shadwell Martin 

w. a. b. coolidge. 

Elisee Reclus. 

William Pole. 



Francis Connell. 
The First Ascent of the Matterhorn . 

Edward Whymper. 
Mont Blanc ..... 

Sir William Martin Conway. 
The Jungfrau ..... 

John Tyndall. 
Zermatt and Monte Rosa . 

Sir William M. Conway. 
Typical Tourists .... 

Victor Tissot. 



45 
51 

58 

65 

72 

82 

9^ 
100 

106 

116 



PART IV 

Descriptions 

Berne 125 



The Lake of Thun 



Interlaken 



Esther Singleton. 

• • • • 

T. G. Bonney. 

«... 

T. G. Bonney. 



132 



138 



CONTENTS 

The CEscHiNEN See and the Gemmi Pass • . .144 

Sydney Hodges. 
Lucerne . . . . • • • • '^5^ 

T. G. BONNEY. 

Lakes OF Lucerne, Zurich and ZuG . . • • ^57 

Victor Hugo. ^ 

The RiGi 162 

Dr. S. G. Cheever. 
Mount Pilatus . . . . . . . .168 

Victor Hugo. 
Zurich . . . . . . • . .171 

William Hepworth Dixon. 

Basle I77 

Victor Tissot. 
Geneva . . . . . . . . .183 

Charles W. Wood. F. R. G. S. 
Chillon and the Lake of Geneva . . . ,190 

Charles W. Wood, F. R. G. S. 
Montreux and Rochers de Naye . . . . • 195 

Charles W. Wood, F. R. G. S. 
La Gruyere . . . . . . . . 207 

Victor Tissot. 
The Valley of Chamouni . . . . . ,216 

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 
Hospice and Pass of St. Bernard ..... 225 

Hugh Macmillan. 
The Eggischhorn and the Great Aletsch Glacier . 240 

F. Barham Zincke. 
The Rhone Glacier ....... 250 

T. G. Bonney. 

Schaffhausen, Handeck, Reichenbach, and Lauter- 

brunnen ........ 257 

Samuel Manning, 



CONTENTS 



St. Gothard ...... 

William Hepworth Dixon. 
The Engadine — Summer and Winter 

J. KiDD. 

Lake Lugano and Lake Como . . . 

F. B. Zincke. 
The Tunnels of the Alps . . . . 

H. S. Archer. 



. 264 

. 270 

• 279 

. 285 



PARTY 

Social Life 

Manners and Customs 

j. sowerby. 
The Swiss Peasant .... 

William Harbutt Dawson. 
In Chalet Land ..... 
School ...... 

William Hepworth Dixon 
The Ranz des Vaches . 

Esther Singleton. 
Swiss Architecture .... 

R. MOBBS. 



293 

306 

317 
327 

332 

338 



Statistics 



PART VI 

Statistics 

E. S. 



343 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Zermatt and Matterhorn . 

PONTR^SINA AND ROSEG GlACIER 

Freiburg 

Lake Maggiore . 

The Wetterhorn 

Lake Como . , 

The Simplon Road 

The Splugen Pass 

The Schreckhorn • 

Mont Blanc • • 

Mer de Glace , • 

The Matterhorn 

Chamounix and Mont Blanc 

The Jungfrau 

Monte Rosa 

Maloja Hotel, Engadine 

Berne 

Thun 

Interlaken and Jungfrau 

Lucerne 

RiGi from Lucerne 

Zurich . • . 

Basle • • • 

Geneva . , , 

Chillon . • . 



Frontispiece 
Facing page 

4 
lo 

20 

30 

38 
46 

52 

58 
66 

72 

82 

92 

100 

106 

116 

126 

132 

138 
152 
162 

172 
178 
184 
190 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



St. Maurice, Rhone Valley 








200 


Chamouni, Mer de Glace 








216 


Hospice of St. Bernard . 








226 


MQnch and Eiger . . . , 








240 


The Rhone Glacier 










. 250 


Falls of the Rhine 










. 258 


St. Gothard 










264 


St. Moritz 










, 270 


Lake Lugano 










, 280 


St. Gothard Railway 








. 286 


Lausanne and the Savoy Mountains 








. 300 


Swiss Chalets . . . . , 








, 306 


Lake Constance . 










• 320 


St. Gallen 










• 330 


Grindelwald . , 










• 332 


Cathedral, Basle 








• 


. 338 


St. Maurice 






» 


• 


• 344 



THE COUNTRY 

W. A, B. COOLIDGE AND H, A. WEBSTER 

WE may roughly describe Switzerland as consist- 
ing of two great trenches traversed by two 
great rivers and enclosed by two huge moun- 
tain masses, together with the enormous valley of the Aar 
and the smaller one of the Thur, both these shut in by the 
great north outlier of the main chain of the Alps, the Rhine 
and the Jura — two deeply cut trenches and two wide and 
undulating valleys. 

The main chain of the Alps rises in Swiss territory to 
the height of 15,217 feet in Monte Rosa, and its north 
outlier to 14,026 feet in the Finsteraarhorn. The mean 
level of the Aar valley has been estimated at 1,378 feet, its 
lowest point being the low-water mark of the Rhine at 
Basle (914 feet) ; the lowest level within the Confederation, 
however, is on the Lago Maggiore (646 feet). 

The total area of Switzerland (15,964.2 square miles) Is 
distributed over four great river basins (draining to three dif- 
ferent seas) in the following proportions: — Rhine, 11,166; 
Rhone, 2,717; Po, 1,358; and Inn, 721. 

The Rhine basin is by far the largest in Switzerland and 
drains, of course, to the North Sea. The Rhine itself is 
formed of two branches, — Vorder Rhine (valley of Dissen- 
tis) and Hinter Rhine (from the Spliigen and St. Bernardino), 
which unite at Reichenau, near Chur. The joint stream 

I 



2 SWITZERLAND 

receives several mountain torrents, expands into the Lake 
of Constance, and then turns vilest, receiving the Thur, and 
opposite Waldshut the great stream of the Aar, finally- 
leaving Swiss territory at Basle, where it turns north. Its 
main affluent is the Aar, the basin of which covers no less 
than 6,794 square miles. This stream rises in the glaciers 
of the Bernese Oberland, expands into the lakes of Brienz 
and Thun, receives from the left the Kander, the Saane 
and the Zihl, and from the right the Emme, as well (near 
Brugg, that great meeting-place of the waters) the Reuss 
flowing through the Lake of Lucerne and the united stream 
of the Linth and the Limmat flowing through the Lakes of 
Wallenstadt and Zurich. It is interesting historically to 
note the fact that the thirteen Cantons which till 1798 
formed the Confederation are all comprised in the Rhine 
basin, the ten oldest (/'. ^., all before 1500), being within 
that of the Aar, and that it was only after 1798 that certain 
Romonsch, French and Italian-speaking " allies" and sub- 
ject lands — ^with their respective river basins — were tacked 
on. The Rhone rises in the glacier of the same name and 
flows west, receiving the mountain torrents of the Visp, the 
Lonza and the Dranse, besides others, expands into the 
Lake of Geneva, and a little way from Geneva quits Swiss 
territory on its way to the Mediterranean. The main 
stream flowing from Switzerland to the Po basin is the 
Ticino (from the St. Gothard), which widens into the Lago 
Maggiore ; another stream expands into the Lake of Lu- 
gano ; and others run into the Lake of Como, — all finally 
joining the Po in the Lombard plains, thus draining to the 
Adriatic. The Ramm, flowing through the Miinsterthal 
joins the Adige, and so drains into the Adriatic. The Inn 
basin is composed of the upper part of the river (above 



THE COUNTRY 3 

Martinsbruck) and drains into the Danube and so intcy che 
Black Sea. 

There are very many lakes in Switzerland. The two 
largest (Geneva and Constance) balance each other at the 
south-west and north-east corners of the Confederation. It 
has been estimated that in the Rhine basin there are no 
fewer than nineteen large and thirty-seven small lakes. Of 
the smaller Swiss lakes we may mention the Dauben See 
and the Oeschinen See as well as the Marjelen See 
close to the Gross Aletsch glacier. There are, of course, 
an infinite number of Alpine tarns. 

There are a great number of waterfalls in Switzerland, 
the loftiest being that of the Staubbach (1,001 feet), in the 
valley of Lauterbrunnen or " Clear Springs " (Bernese Ober- 
land). In the Oberland, too, we find the Handeck (200- 
225 feet), near the source of the Aar, while the Reichen- 
bach descends in seven falls and the Giessbach in thirteen. 
The falls of the Rhine at SchafFhausen contain an enor- 
mous mass of water, though they are only 82 feet in height. 
In southern Switzerland the Pissevache fall (200 feet), in 
the Rhone valley Is the best known. 

Switzerland has 138 glaciers of the first rank (/. ^., over 
4^ miles long) as against Austria, though Austria has 391 
of the second rank (/. ^., between 4^ and 3 miles long) as 
against 333 in Switzerland. The distribution of the Swiss 
glaciers deserves notice, for in eleven Cantons (that is, half 
of those In the Confederation) there are no glaciers at all, 
while in five others (Unterwalden, Vaud, St. Gill, Schwyz 
and Appenzell) tliey only cover about 13 square miles out 
of 709.9 miles of ice and snow In the Confederation, ac- 
cording to the official survey. Valals heads the list, then 
come the Grisons, Berne, Uri, Glarus and Ticlno. The 



4 SWITZERLAND 

longest glacier in the Alps is the Great Aletsch in the Ber- 
nese Oberland, 15 miles long; it has a basin of 49.8 square 
miles and a maximum breadth of 1,968 yards. In point of 
length the Unteraar glacier comes next (10.4 miles), fol- 
lowed by the Corner and Viescher glaciers (each 9.4 miles). 
The lowest point to which a Swiss glacier is known to have 
descended is 3,225 feet, attained by the Lower Grindelwald 
glacier in 18 18. Dr. Heim states that in the central Alps 
of Switzerland the limit of perpetual snow varies from 
9,259 to 9,023 feet. 

In Switzerland, where the height above the sea-level 
varies from 646 feet (Lago Maggiore) to 15,217 feet (Monte 
Rosa), we naturally find very many climates, from the 
regions of olives, vines, oaks and beeches, pines and firs, to 
those of high mountain pastures, rhododendrons, and of 
eternal snow. As regards the duration of seasons, there is 
a corresponding variety. It has been reckoned that, while 
in Italian Switzerland winter lasts only three months, at 
Glarus it lasts four, in the Engadine six, on the St. Gothard 
eight, on the Great St. Bernard nine, and on the St. Theo- 
dule always. 

Thunder-storms generally vary in frequency with the 
amount of rainfall, being most common near the great 
ranges, and often very local. The floods caused by excess- 
ive rainfall are sometimes very destructive, as in 1839, 
1852 and 1868, while the same cause leads to landslips, of 
which the most remarkable have been those on the Ross- 
berg above Goldau (1806) at Evionnaz (1835) and at Elm 
(1881). 

The fohn is the most remarkable of the local winds in 
Switzerland, — a strong south-west or south wind, very hot 
and very dry. It was formerly supposed to come from the 




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THE COUNTRY 5 

Sahara. The y7>Z?« occurs most frequently in spring. Other 
local winds in the Alps are those which blow up a valley in 
the morning and down it in the evening due to the heating of 
the air in the valleys by the sun during the day and its cool- 
ing by terrestrial radiation at night. The cloud streamers 
from great Alpine peaks are due to the condensing of the 
moisture in a layer of air, and, as the moisture is carried 
away by the wind, so the streamer is dissolved. 

Game is not abundant in any part of Switzerland ; and 
rigorous game laws and other wild devices have been 
adopted in order to increase the number of wild animals. 
In 1875, a law was passed in accordance with which a 
commission marked out certain reservations or ^^ districts 
francs pour la chasse au gihier de montagne ;^^ and in 1 88 1 
their limits were revised for another term of five years, in- 
cluding an area of 5,268 square kilometres in 1885. There 
were then within this area 8,487 chamois and about 106 
roebuck. The chamois were most abundant in the Gri- 
sons, Berne, Glarus and Freiburg. In the Alpine region, 
the marmot and Alpine hare are still common ; and their 
numbers have increased under the protective system. 
Grouse, partridge, wild duck, and snipe are the chief game 
birds. A close time protects birds not considered game, 
and the federal council in 1885 appointed a commission to 
draw up a catalogue of all birds found in Switzerland and 
to establish stations for collecting facts of ornithological in- 
terest. 

Attention has been recently directed to the diminution of 
the supply of freshwater fish, due in part to over-fishing and 
in part to pollution of the streams. It is estimated that the 
fish-bearing waters in the whole country cover an aggregate 
area of 1,581 square kilometres (1,348 belonging to lakes 



6 SWITZERLAND 

and 233 to rivers and streams), the Cantons with the 
greatest areas being Vaud, Berne, Thurgau and Neuchatel. 
Close seasons, and in certain places close years, have been 
established, and numerous fish-hatcheries are also in opera- 
tion, the species treated being mainly salmon, lake trout, 
river trout, grayling (ombre) red trout or Rochel, the Swiss 
Coregonus^ American Coregonus (C alhus)^ Salmo fontinalis 
and the m'dder. 

The name ^^ allmend" is given to land still held in com- 
mon, u^hether arable, meadow, pasture or forest. The main 
part of the " allmends " now existing consists of pasture and 
forest land. The pasture lands, " alps," or high mountain 
pastures, comprise " voralpen " used in the spring ; " mittel- 
alpen^'' or cow pastures; and ^^ hochalpen'' (sometimes 
9,000 feet above the sea), for sheep and goats. They are 
most numerous in Neuchatel, Bern and Grisons. 

The silk industry of Switzerland was already established 
at Zurich and Basle in the latter half of the Thirteenth 
Century ; but after a period of prosperity it died out. It 
was again introduced by the Protestants expelled from Lo- 
carno in 1555. Crape, velvet and taffetas were the 
favourite products of the first stage ; ribbon-weaving came 
later with another band of Locarno refugees and the 
French Huguenots. Cotton began to be manufactured in 
Switzerland in the Fifteenth Century and the power-loom 
weaving was introduced In 1830. The industry has owed 
a good deal to the abundant water-power of the country. 
Bleaching and cloth-dressing have attained a great develop- 
ment in the neighbourhood of St. Gall, both in the Cantons 
of St. Gail and Appenzell. Printworks are especially nu- 
merous in Glarus. Aargau is the chief seat of the woolen 
manufacture. Linen, the first of the Swiss textile fabrics 



THE COUNTRY 7 

to find its way to a foreign market, is no longer manufactured 
on a large scale. Embroidered goods are a great specialty 
of the export trade of eastern Switzerland, — the Cantons of 
St. Gall, Appenzell, Thurgau and part of Zurich. Straw- 
plaiting is an important industry in Aargau (centre at 
Wohlen), Ticino and Freiburg. Watch and clock-making 
is a specially Swiss industry, giving employment to 44,000 
workers in 1883. The condensed-milk industry of Swit- 
zerland is also well known. Swiss cheese (Emmenthal and 
Gruyere), has a wide-spread reputation. 

Wood-carving was one of the most ancient, as it is now 
one of the best-known, of the minor arts of Switzerland. 
The great seat of the modern industry is the Bernese 
Oberland, where the peasants during the long evenings of 
winter for centuries devoted themselves to producing artis- 
tic articles in wood. It was regularly organized by Chris- 
tian Fischer in Brienz (1825), and is now mainly in the 
hands of a company, founded in 188 1, which associates 
capitalists and workmen in the profits. 

Owing to the original abundance of timber, it was al- 
most the only material employed in the building of houses. 
There are practically three styles : the so-called block- 
house, in which the logs are laid one upon the other ; the 
post-built house, in which upright posts and a strong frame- 
work are filled in with planks ; and the " riggelhaus" in 
which a framework of wood is filled in with brick or stones. 
In the Cantons of Ziirich, Thurgau and Schaffhausen the 
riegelhaus (the usual form in southern Germany) has — 
chiefly owing to the increased cost of timber — displaced the 
two other styles, which alone were in use there till the be- 
ginning of the Seventeenth Century. 



THE CANTONS AND HALF-CANTONS 

WILLIAM HEP WORTH DIXON 

THE Swiss League consists of twenty-five republics 
— nineteen Cantons, six Half-cantons — which 
agree for certain purposes, mainly of defence, to 
form a single commonwealth, with one assembly, one 
executive power. 

This League of Cantons is a growth of time. Before 
the thirty-three famous patriots met in Griith to exchange 
their pledges, acts of union had been signed by some of the 
Cantons, and the very words of Griith, " All for each and 
each for all," had been exchanged by them on oath. 
Luzerne had signed an act of mutual help with Bern, and 
those who signed that act were called Companions of the 
Oath. In 1 29 1, Canton Schwyz and Canton Uri formed a 
league with the Half-canton of Unterwalden-nidwald, to 
which the second Half-canton, Unterwalden-obwald, after- 
wards adhered. They took the vow of " All for each and 
each for all." Sixty days after the swearing of this oath 
of friendship, Canton Zurich entered into union for de- 
fensive purposes with Canton Schwyz and Canton Uri. 
All these acts of union cleared the ground for what was 
soon to be an actual League. 

At Griith, a secluded field below the Seelisberg, in Can- 
ton Uri, thirty herdsmen, stout of heart and strong of 
limb, were brought in 1307 by three good patriots — Werner 
StaufFacher of Canton Schwyz, Walter Furst of Canton 



CANTONS AND HALF-CANTONS 9 

Uri and Erni of Melchthal, Canton Unterwalden — to 
engage each other, by the pledge of " All for each and 
each for all." They swore to rise against their tyrant, to 
destroy his castles and to free their Cantons from the 
Austrian yoke. As Schwyz became the theatre of war, the 
world outside first heard of these confederates as the 
Switzers. When Morgarten made the name and flag of 
Schwyz illustrious, the other Cantons were not sorry to ac- 
cept her name and banner for their infant League. 

Both name and banner are of unknown origin. The 
name of Schwyz has been derived from swine, from snow 
and many other words. The flag was once a blood-red 
field j the cross was won in fight, but whether in defence of 
Pope or Kaiser is a subject of dispute. The better story 
seems that certain men of Schwyz went out to see the 
Emperor Conrad in his wars. They bore with them a 
blood-red flag. In every fray that blood-red flag was seen 
in front, and Conrad watched it with a soldier's eye. 
When the imperial armies moved on Burgundy, these 
troops marched with them j and in one of the assaults of 
Hericourt they roused his martial admiration to so high a 
pitch, that he bestowed on them the right to quarter on 
their blood-red field his own imperial arms — the pure white 
cross. 

The Canton is the State. 

Few jurists hold with the mayor of Saxon that any part 
of Swiss sovereignty resides in a Commune. Jurists of all 
sections, whether Celtic or Teutonic, whether Catholic or 
Evangelical, whether Conservative or Radical, admit that 
Swiss sovereignty resides in the Cantons. When the 
members for these Cantons meet in Bern, with certain 
forms and in a single room, they hold this sovereignty in 



lo SWITZERLAND 

common ; but they bring it into Bern, they do not find it 
here ; and when they leave this town they carry it with 
them to their several homes. 

In speaking roundly, one would say there are in Switzer- 
land twenty-two Cantons, which are marked officially and 
in order, thus : — i. Zurich ; 2. Bern ; 3. Luzerne ; 4. Uri ; 
5. Schwyz ; 6. Unterwalden ; 7. Glarus;8. ZugjQ. Fri- 
bourg; 10. Solothurn ; 11. Basel; 12. SchafFhausen ; 
13. Appenzell; 14. St. Gallen ; 15. Graubiinden (Ro- 
mansch, Grischa-French,Grisons); 16. Aargaujiy. Thur- 
gau ; 18. Ticino ; 19. Vaud ; 20. Valais;2l. Neufchatel ; 
22. Geneva. This arrangement, though historical, does not 
correspond to the historical growth; for Zurich, now the heart 
and brain of the republic, was very far from being the orig- 
inal founder of the League. That glory lies with Schwyz ; 
here marked as number 5. Schwyz gave her name, her 
genius and her flag to the Alliance. From Schwyz we get 
the name of Switzer; the connexion of religion with 
democracy ; the pure white cross upon the blood-red field. 
When Tell was tending kine at Biirglen, on the Uri 
slopes, there were no Switzers save the men of Schwyz. 
Tell never called himself a Switzer. Tell was a Uranian, 
and his Canton Uri. Schwyz had gained in war — for she 
was ever stout in fight — the flag she lent her allies of the 
League. Three other Forest Cantons, Uri, Unterwalden 
and Luzern, were in the League while Zurich stood out- 
side — a feudal and imperial town. But Zurich was a rich 
and powerful city, and the moment she adhered to the 
Alliance she assumed in it the leading part. Bern followed 
her and shared her power. Luzerne, as chief of the four 
Forest Cantons, claimed an equal rank. As soon as any 
Federal Council met, this council sat by turns in either of 




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CANTONS AND HALF-CANTONS ii 

these capitals — two years in each. But Zurich and 
Luzerne have each given up the claim to rank as capitals ; 
and now the President, the Council and the two Assemblies, 
find a permanent seat in Bern. 

Three of these twenty-two republics — Basel Appenzell 
and Unterwalden — have been separated into rival halves ; 
each republic keeping her own share of sovereign power. 
Basel is divided into Basel-stadt and Basel-land ; Appenzell 
into Appenzell-outer Rhoden and Appenzell-inner Rhoden; 
Unterwalden into Unterwalden ob-wald and Unterwalden 
nid-wald. 

These nineteen Cantons and six Half-cantons form the 
Swiss League. Each part is equal to each other part, in 
spite of variation as to size, numbers and to wealth. The 
differences are very great. 

The rendering of full Cantons Into Half-cantons Is the 
work of party feuds ; in one place springing from political 
causes, In a second from religious strife, and in a third from 
wrangles about wood and grass. 

Each Canton and Half-canton is a separate state, com- 
plete within itself, enjoying rights and offices de- 
rived from no exterior source, and holding various 
powers which she inherits from the past, and has not 
yet surrendered to the League. Not long ago each Canton 
had a separate coinage and the raps and bats of one were 
not a legal tender in the next. Not long ago each Canton 
had an agent in Vienna, Rome and Paris ; and the greatest 
potentates sent ministers to Sarnen, Schwyz and Zug. 
Each Canton claimed to treat with kings and recognize all 
sovereign acts. Not long ago each Canton kept a custom- 
house on every road, and manned a tower at every bridge at 
which to levy rates. Each load of grass and butt of wine. 



12 SWITZERLAND 

each sack of corn and pound of cheese that passed her bound- 
ary was taxed. All fish that floated to her net was prize. 
Not long ago each Canton raised an army of her own, 
equipped and moved that army as she pleased, and lent her 
troops for hire to princes who could pay, — to Kings of 
France and Naples, and still later. Popes of Rome. These 
several marks of sovereignty have been surrendered to the 
League. The cantonal mints, the cantonal embassies, the 
cantonal customs and the cantonal armies — all these things 
are gone. Two remnants only of these sovereign powers 
remain : the right to levy certain rates on wine, called 
ohmgeld^ at the frontiers of each Canton ; and the right to 
keep on foot a half battalion of three hundred men. 

Though stripped of these old marks of sovereignty, each 
Canton has a separate constitution, capital and government. 
Each Canton has a parliament, a court of justice and an ex- 
ecutioner. Each Canton has the power of life and death. 
Each Canton makes and executes her laws. 

Some Cantons fix the age at which a man begins to vote 
at twenty ; others at eighteen ; and one, at least as low as 
sixteen. Where they have parliaments, the members of 
these parliaments are chosen by universal voting in the bal- 
lot-box. Each citizen is constrained to give his vote. A 
full majority of the votes recorded are required for an elec- 
tion. Every man is free to stand as candidate ; every man 
is qualified to act as President \ and every man is paid for 
service to a public cause. 



THE FOREST CANTONS 

J. SOJVERBT 

THE Waldstatte, comprising the three lands, Schwyz, 
Uri and Unterwalden, together with Lucerne, or 
as they are more commonly called, the four Forest 
Cantons, are clustered around the Lake of Lucerne. The 
Canton of Lucerne lies on the north-west of the lake, 
Schwyz on the north-east, Uri on the south, and Unter- 
walden on the south-west. The whole region is drained by 
the lake and the Reuss, which passes through it, with the 
exception of about half of the Canton of Schwyz, which 
drains into the Zihl, and thence into the Limmat, near 
Zurich, and a portion of Canton Lucerne on the borders 
of Aargau, which sends its waters to the Aar. The four 
Cantons are, as it were, enveloped by the valley of the Aar, 
that of the Rhine from the Oberalp Pass to Sargans, and a 
line drawn along the Lakes of Wallenstadt and Zurich. 
Their surface may, roughly speaking, be regarded as an in- 
clined plane, sloping from south-east to north-west, whilst 
the mountain summits and passes along the border decrease 
in height in the same direction. The four Cantons attained 
their present shape about the beginning of the Nineteenth 
Century. 

The surface of Canton Lucerne is divided almost equally 
into an undulating hill region and a mountain region. The 
latter consists of the vale of Entlebuch. The valley oc- 
cupies the whole breadth of the Canton in the south, be- 



14 SWITZERLAND 

tween Bern and Unterwalden, as far as the Napf. Here 
a ridge called the Menzberg, with its continuations, 
divides the Entlebuch from the rest of the Canton. The 
streams of the Kleine Emme, which drains the Entlebuch, 
enters the Reuss at the Emmenbriicke, half a league below 
Lucerne. North and west of the Entlebuch, are a number 
of villages divided by ranges of low hills mostly running in 
a northerly direction. To the west is the valley drained by 
the Wigger, passing by Willisau and leaving the Canton 
near Zoiingen : then the valley of the Sempacher See, 
drained by the Suhr; the valley of Miinster, drained by the 
Wina, entering the Aar near Aarau, and lastly the vale of 
Hitzkirch, drained by the Aar, which passes through the 
Lakes of Baldegg and Hallwyl. The latter lake is, how- 
ever, almost entirely outside the Canton. Sempach and 
Baldegg are the only lakes of any size in the Canton after 
the Lake of Lucerne. The course of the Reuss in Canton 
Lucerne is very short. Leaving the lake at Lucerne, it runs 
west and north-west to the«Emmenbriicke. This part of 
the Canton is separated from the rest by a line of low hills, 
and similar lines of hills bound the valleys which trend 
northward to Canton Aargau. 

The part of the Lake of Lucerne contained in the Canton 
includes the greater part of the " Ktreuztrichter," or cruci- 
form portion of the lake, formed by the Bays of Lucerne 
and Kiissnacht and the greater portion of the Bays of 
Weggis and Hergiswyl. No part of the Canton is plain 
land. Some of the low-lying valleys as they trend towards 
Aargau may, at the outside, have a breadth of five to six 
miles. The northern half varies between 1,400 and 2,000 
feet above the sea, the hills, of course, rising higher. The 
southern portion, or mountain region, seldom falls below 



THE FOREST CANTONS 15 

2,000 feet, and the floor of the valley varies from 2,000 to 
3,000 feet in altitude. The mountain chain which bounds 
the valley attains in the Napf a height of 4,619 feet; in the 
Tannhorn (the most southern point) 7,290 feet ; in the 
Brienzer Rothhorn, 7,713; and in the Pilatus, 6,998 feet. 

The northern half is well cultivated land, smiling farms 
with orchards, walnut and chestnut trees, interspersed here 
and there with a dark pinewood. The vale of Entlebuch is 
almost entirely pastoral. The mountains, with the excep- 
tion of a few rocky summits, form excellent pastures, and 
are everywhere accessible to cattle. A small portion of the 
surface of the Entlebuch is arable land ; the rest is divided 
between woods and pastures, the extent of the woods in the 
whole Canton being 70,000 acres. 

The greatest length of the Canton from north to south is 
about thirty-five miles ; and from east to west about thirty- 
six miles. Its area Is 579 square miles, thus ranking ninth 
in size among the Swiss Cantons. 

The surface of Canton Schwyz is very irregular, and less 
limited by natural boundaries than any of the other three 
Cantons. It falls in about equal parts to the Lake of 
Lucerne, and to the Zihl, whilst a very small portion on the 
north-west drains to the Lake of Zug. This last includes 
the greater part of the Rigi, part of the Lake of Zug, with 
the villages of Arth and Goldau. On the north side of the 
Bay of Buochs, lies the well-sheltered and fertile basin of 
Gersau, which, for many years was an independent State, 
and only incorporated in the Canton of Schwyz in 1803. 

The only level part of the Canton is the plain of Schwyz, 
between the base of the Mythen and the Bay of Brunnen. 
Here is a certain amount of cultivation, but the greater part 
of the Canton is either meadow, pasture, or woodland. Of 



i6 SWITZERLAND 

this last, the Canton possesses more than any other in pro- 
portion to its size, especially in the southern half (the old 
Land Schwyz) where it is one third of the entire area. 
The greater part of the mountain region, with the excep- 
tion of some rugged summits such as Mythen, is every- 
where pasture. Only in the east and north-east, towards 
the Cantons of Glarus and Uri, do we find summits which 
rise to the level of perpetual snow. The highest mountain 
is the Bose Faulen (9,200 feet). The wild region between 
the Pragel and Klausen Passes is a desolate, rugged plateau 
where we often meet with large areas of bare limestone 
rock (Schratten) seamed by the action of water with a 
thousand cracks like the crevasses of a glacier. 

The greatest extent of the Canton from east to west is 
about twenty-seven miles; from north to south about 
twenty-four. The area is about 350 square miles. The 
occupation of the inhabitants is almost entirely pastoral, 
and the breed of cattle is highly esteemed. 

Canton Unterwalden is surrounded by a semi-circle of 
hills whose ends are on the Lake of Lucerne. This line 
falls nowhere below 4,000 feet above the sea, except at two 
points. Unterwalden has been divided into the two Half- 
cantons of Ob-dem-Wald and Nid-dem-Wald since the 
Twelfth Century, with separate general assemblies and 
constitutions. The Wald spoken of in the names of the 
Half-cantons is the great wood near Kerns, which divided 
the upper from the lower half of the Canton. In Unter- 
walden there Is no plain land except in the neighbourhood 
of Stans and Buochs. The mountains which enclose the 
valley of Engelberg rise in many cases above the level of 
perpetual snow. The Titlis (10,827 feet) is the highest; 
but the greater part of the hill, districts are everywhere ac- 



THE FOREST CANTONS 17 

cessible to cattle. The extent of the Canton from east to 
west is about thirty miles ; from north to south about 
twenty miles. The area is about 195 square miles 
of which one-fifth is woodland. The occupation of 
the inhabitants is almost entirely pastoral ; and Canton 
Unterwalden may be called a perfect specimen of a pas- 
toral country. No more beautiful views can be found 
than from the neighbourhood of Stans or Sarnen, over the 
smiling lowlands backed by the green slopes and the sum- 
mits of the Stanzerhorn, or the Pilatus. 

Canton Uri is surrounded by a chain of lofty summits ; 
it is drained entirely by the Reuss. This stream, rising 
near the Fibbia, in Canton Tessin, west of the St. Gothard 
Pass, runs nearly north to the Lake of Lucerne at Fliielen. 
In this Canton, we find a different aspect from the smiling 
and gentle slopes of the others. The sombre and grand 
scenery of the southern bay of the lake prepares the 
traveller for the change. For a short distance, from 
Fliielen to Altdorf and Amsteg, the inclination is gentle. 
Walnut and chestnut trees enliven the landscape, though 
on right and left there are frowning cliffs. But after pass- 
ing Amsteg, the ascent begins to the St. Gothard Pass, and 
the scene rapidly changes. No more, or very little 
cultivated ground ; the pastures often rough with stones ; 
wild gorges, traversed by foaming torrents. In the lateral 
valleys many fine alps are to be found, where the herds pas- 
ture in summer; but the higher summits rise far above 
these. As we pass the entrances of the Maderanerthal, or 
the Goschenenthal, we see in the background dark rocky 
summits, mingled with gleaming snowy points, with vast 
masses of glacier. 

The greatest extent of Canton Uri from north to south 



i8 SWITZERLAND 

is about thirty-six miles ; and from east to west about 
twenty-five miles. The area is 415 square miles, of which 
a large portion is woodland. The highest summit is Dam- 
mastock (11,910 feet) at the head of the Goschenenthal. 
Altdorf, the chief town, has no trade, and the occupations 
in the Canton are entirely pastoral. 

The four Cantons thus briefly described had for centu- 
ries no other easy means of communication with each other 
than by the Lake of Lucerne, which they enclosed. Lands 
so shut in and secluded from the outer world might well be 
expected to preserve their main characteristics unaltered, 
and such to a great extent is the case since they became 
known to history. 



THE RACE 

W, HEPWORTH DIXON 

IN mere extent of surface Celtic Switzerland is nearly 
equal to Teutonic Switzerland ; but when we count 
the people there are only thirty Celts to every seventy 
Teutons ; and the thirty Celts are scattered into three dis- 
tinct and hostile camps. One camp is Gallic, one Ro- 
monsch and one Italian. 

" We come into these hills to-day," observes the Teuton, 
" as our fathers came a thousand years ago ; we come from 
Lombardy, from Swabia, and from Burgundy ; we meet on 
these high crests — around the Ober Alp, the Furka, and the 
Sasso di Gottardo — and we try to push each other down the 
slope. We Teutons bear our language to the summit of 
each pass. The Celts, too, bring their language to the 
summit of each pass. Our language is High German in 
the colleges. Low German in the streets. Their language 
is of more variety than ours. We speak the AUemannic 
idiom mainly as our kinsmen speak it in the Rhineland, 
from the quays of Rorschah to the gates of Metz. They 
speak several forms of Latin — French, Italian and Ro- 
monsch ; French in the Rhone system, Italian in the Po 
system, Romonsch in the Inn system and in the upper por- 
tion of the Rhine. 

The families are small for countries which are mainly 
tenanted by a Teutonic race. 

Two points are to be noted in these figures ; first, the 



20 



SWITZERLAND 



number of persons in each Family ; and next the great ex- 
cess of Families over Houses. On the average for all 
Switzerland, a Family consists of less than five members ; 
father, mother, and three children ; vi'hile the average of 
other countries of Teuton race is six and seven. The vil- 
lage system, as in Russia, tends to check the natural rate 
of growth. In counting roofs, we find the number of 
Families in great excess of Houses j very near a third part 
of the whole. 

The number of households is in large excess of the num- 
ber of houses in which they have to live. Every third 
family must dwell beneath a roof-tree not its own. 

In Languages we find 



Families speaking 


German . 




384,561 




French 




134,183 




Italian 




30,293 




Romonsch 




8,759 




English 




19 




Dutch, Polish, 


Magyar 






Russ and Spanish (one each) 


5 



Families 



557,820 



The first four groups are native and require to have their 
separate books of law. It would be something if each idiom 
had a Canton or a group of Cantons to itself; but such is 
not the rule, and hardly the exception to a rule. In each 
of the twenty-five Cantons and Half-cantons you hear 
German spoken, but in none of these exclusively. In 
nineteen Cantons and Half-cantons you hear French ; in 
some but little, in others much, but not in one exclusively. 
In twenty-one Cantons and Half-cantons there is some 





ift 1 




H^ I 






%: i 






11 ' 











ad 
O 

< 

'A 
< 



THE RACE 21 

Italian, if not much ; but no one Canton speaks Italian ex- 
clusively. The Romonsch idiom is less widely spread, yet 
Romonsch may be heard in twelve several Cantons as a 
native speech. There are, of course, some zig-zag and 
concentric lines of language. German, which is heard in 
every Canton of the Bund, maintains a large predominance 
in Zurich, Berne, Luzerne, and all the upper Cantons, with 
the one exception of Graubiinden. French is the prevail- 
ing tongue in Neufchatel, Geneva, Valais, Vaud and Fri- 
bourg ; but in Vaud and Fribourg German is the language 
of a strong minority of the people — close upon a third. 
Italian has its chief seats in Graubiinden and Ticino ; in 
the first of which Cantons nearly nine thousand families 
speak Romonsch. This Rustic Latin is the only language 
in the country which is dying out. Italian, French and 
German grow with the growth of population more or 
less. 

The two great races hold their natural lines ; the North- 
ern races nearly all the north, the Southern races nearly all 
the south. But two exceptions to the law are visible, — one 
exception in the Rhone valley ; a second exception in the 
Rhine valley. Up to Sion the Rhone is Celtic ; at Sierre 
it is mixed; and higher up the stream it is wholly Teutonic. 
Up to Chur the Rhine is German, but in Ilanz it is mixed, 
and higher up the stream is Romonsch. What cause has 
brought this contradiction to a natural law ? The structure 
of these mountain walls. The valley of the Rhone is long 
and narrow. France has but one opening into it beyond 
the passage at Villeneuve, — the high and lateral entry from 
Chamouni by the Forclaz. Only through these gorges 
can the Gauls from Burgundy and Savoy pour into the 
Valais ; but in passing up the river, they are met in front, 



22 SWITZERLAND 

and taken on the flank, by Teutons coming by the Furka 
Pass from Andermatt, the Grimsel Pass from Meyringen, 
the Gemmi Pass from Unterseen, the Col du Rawyl from 
Thun, the Sanetsch Pass from Gsteig and Saanen. Met 
by these descending masses, they retire on Sion, where they 
hold their ground, and keep the forms of Latin life. Five 
passes through their mountains make the Teutons masters 
of the Upper Rhone. But Nature, which has given the 
Teuton access to his neighbour's river, has denied him ac- 
cess to his own. From Ober Alp to Trons, in the Fore 
Rhine valley, there is not a chamois trail across the northern 
heights. From Trons and Films there rise two bridle 
paths ; near Ilanz is an opening to the Panix ; but these 
paths are high and hard to climb ; while on the southern 
bank a dozen easy roads lead in and out of the Italian val- 
leys ; roads from Albula, from Stalla, from Spliigen, from 
Bernardina, from Olivone, from Val Piora and from Airolo. 
Thus, a counter march to what has given the upper waters 
of the Rhone to men of northern race has given the upper 
waters of the Rhine to men of southern race. A Teutonic 
colony has pushed towards Italy ; and if they have not 
crossed the ridge, these colonists hold the mountains to the 
top. They own the hamlets of the Rheinwald and the 
pastures of Averserthal. Some German thorpes are circled 
by a foreign population, like the German colonies in Russia. 
One such thorpe is that of Bosco, in Ticino. St. Martin 
and Obersaxen are Teutonic thorpes. 

" You see," the Bernese adds, as we go over all these 
curious facts, " we are an odd amalgam of all races and all 
creeds. We speak Italian, Romonsch, PVench and Ger- 
man. We are Lutheran, Calvinist, Catholic, Israelite. 
We are .Latin, Gallic, Low Dutch, High Dutch, Hebrew, 



THE RACE 23 

We are not a nation, even as we are not a people. We 
have Communes, Cantons and Half-cantons, but as yet we 
have no Switzerland. A Switzer has his Commune, but he 
has no country. You will hear in Berne that we are twenty- 
five republics, but in truth we are five hundred republics ; 
every one of them republics with a local life and independent 
claims. Our Communes were republics once, and have 
not wholly lost their sovereign rights." 



THE CHARACTER OF THE SWISS 

JOHN R US KIN 

THERE has been much dispute respecting the char- 
acter of the Swiss, arising out of the difficulty 
which other nations had to understand their sim- 
plicity. They were assumed to be either romantically vir- 
tuous or basely mercenary, when in fact they were neither 
heroic nor base, but were true-hearted men, stubborn with 
more than any recorded stubbornness ; not much regarding 
their lives, yet not casting them causelessly away ; forming 
no high ideal of improvement, but never relaxing their grasp 
of a good they had once gained ; devoid of all romantic 
sentiment, yet loving with a practical and patient love that 
neither wearied nor forsook ; little given to enthusiasm in 
religion, but maintaining their faith in a purity which no 
worldliness deadened and no hypocrisy soiled ; neither 
chivalrously generous nor pathetically humane, yet never 
pursuing their defeated enemies nor suffering their poor to 
perish ; proud, yet not allowing their pride to prick them 
into unwary, or unworthy quarrel; avaricious, yet content- 
edly rendering to their neighbour his due ; dull, but clear- 
sighted to all the principles of justice; and patient, without 
ever allowing delay to be prolonged by sloth, or forbearance 
by fear. 

This temper of the Swiss mind while it animated the 
whole confederacy, was rooted chiefly in one small district 



THE CHARACTER OF THE SWISS 25 

which formed the heart of their country, yet lay not among 
its highest mountains. Beneath the glaciers of Zermatt and 
Evolena, and on the scorching slopes of the Valais, the 
peasants remained in an aimless torpor, unheard of but as 
the obedient vassals of the great Bishopric of Sion. But 
where the lower ledges of calcareous rock were broken by 
the inlets of the Lake Lucerne, and bracing winds pene- 
trating from the north forbade the growth of the vine, com- 
pelling the peasantry to adopt an entirely pastoral life, was 
reared another race of men. Their narrow domain should 
be marked by a small green spot on every map of Europe. 
It is about forty miles from east to west ; as many from 
north to south ; yet on that shred of rugged ground, while 
every kingdom of the world around it rose or fell in fatal 
change, and every multitudinous race mingled or wasted 
itself in various dispersion and decline, the simple shepherd 
dynasty remained changeless. There is no record of their 
origin. They are neither Goths, Burgundians, Romans, 
nor Germans. They have been forever Helvetic, and for- 
ever free. Voluntarily placing themselves under the pro- 
tection of the House of Hapsburg, they acknowledged its 
supremacy, but resisted its oppression ; andaose against the 
unjust governors it appointed over them, not to gain, but to 
redeem, their liberties. Victorious in the struggle by the 
Lake of Egeri, they stood the foremost standard-bearers 
among the nations of Europe in the cause of loyalty and 
life — loyalty in its highest sense, to the laws of God's help- 
ful justice and of man's faithful and brotherly fortitude. 

You will find among them, as I said, no subtle wit nor 
high enthusiasm, only an undeceivable common sense and 
an obstinate rectitude. They cannot be persuaded into 
their duties, but they feel them i they use no phrases of 



26 SWITZERLAND 

friendship, but they do not fail you at your need. Ques- 
tions of creed, which other nations sought to solve by logic 
or reverie, these shepherds brought to practical tests : sus- 
tained with tranquillity the excommunication of abbots who 
wanted to feed their cattle on other people's fields, and, hal- 
bert in hand, struck down the Swiss Reformation, because 
the Evangelicals of Zurich refused to send them their due 
supplies of salt. Not readily yielding to the demands of 
superstition, they were patient under those of economy; 
they would purchase the remission of taxes, but not of sins; 
and while the sale of indulgences was arrested in the church 
of Ensiedlen as boldly as at the gates of Wittenberg, the 
inhabitants of the valley of Frutigen ^ ate no meat for seven 
years, in order peacefully to free v themselves and their 
descendants from the seignorial claims of the Baron of 
Thurm. 

What praise may be justly due to this modest and ra- 
tional virtue, we have perhaps no sufficient ground for de- 
fining. It must long remain questionable how far the vices 
of superior civilization may be atoned for by its achieve- 
ments, and the errors of more transcendental devotion for- 
given to its rapture. But, take it for what we may, the 
character of this peasantry is, at least, serviceable to others 
and sufficient for their own peace ; and in its consistency 
and simplicity, it stands alone in the history of the human 
heart. How far it was developed by circumstances of nat- 
ural phenomena may also be disputed ; nor should I enter 
into such dispute with any strongly held conviction. The 
Swiss have certainly no feelings respecting their mountains 
in any wise correspondent to ours. It was rather as fort- 

* This valley is on the pass of the Gemmi in Canton Berne, but the peo- 
ple are the same in temper as those of the Waldstetten. 



> 



THE CHARACTER OF THE SWISS 27 

resses of defence, than as spectacles of splendour, that the 
clifFs of the Rothstock bare rule over the destinies of those 
who dwelt at their feet ; and the training for which the 
mountain children had to thank the slopes of the Muotta- 
Thal was in soundness of breath, and steadiness of limb, 
far more than in elevation of idea. But the point which I 
desire the reader to note is, that the character of the scene 
which, if any appears to have been impressive to the in- 
habitant, is not that which we ourselves feel when we enter 
the district. It was not from their lakes, nor their clifFs, 
nor their glaciers — though these were all peculiarly their 
possession, that the three venerable Cantons or States 
received their name. They were not called the States of 
the Rock, nor the States of the Lake, but the States of the 
Forest. And the one of the three which contains the most 
touching record of the spiritual power of Swiss religion, in 
the name of the convent of the " Hill of Angels," has, for 
its own, none but the sweet childish name of " Under the 
Woods." 

And indeed you may pass under them if, leaving the most 
sacred spot in Swiss history, the Meadow of the Three 
Fountains, you bid the boatmen row southward a little way 
by the shore of the Bay of Uri. Steepest there on its west- 
ern side, the walls of its rocks ascend to heaven. Far in 
the blue of evening, like a great cathedral pavement, lies 
the lake in its darkness ; and you may hear the whisper of 
mnumerable waters return from the hollows of the clifF, like 
the voices of a multitude praying under their breath. From 
time to time the beat of a wave, slow lifted, where the rocks 
lean over the black depth, dies heavily as the last note of a 
requiem. Opposite, green with steep grass, and set with 
ehdlet villages, the Fron-Alp rises in one solemn glow of 



28 SWITZERLAND 

pastoral light and peace j and above, against the clouds of 
twilight, ghostly on the gray precipice, stand, myriad by 
myriad, the shadowy armies of the Unterwalden pine.^ 

^ The cliff immediately bordering the lake is in Canton Uri ; the green 
hills of Unterwalden rise above. This is the grandest piece of the shore 
of Lake Lucerne ; the rocks near Tell's Chapel are neither so lofty nor 
so precipitous. 



E 



EARLY HISTORY 

WILLIAM FRANCIS COLLIER 

ARLY in the Christian era, Helvetia, which was 
^ peopled chiefly by Gallic tribes, formed a part of 
the Roman Empire. Then, overrun by various 
barbarous races, it was included in the kingdom of Burgundy 
the Less, and as such fell under the rule of Charlemagne. 
After his death it was annexed to the Romano-Germanic 
Empire. Conspicuous among the many small sovereignties 
and states, into which it was broken, even while owning a 
sort of dependence on the empire, were the Forest Cantons 
of Schweitz, Uri, and Underwalden, clustered round the 
southern shore of Lake Lucerne. 

In 1273, Count Rudolph of Hapsburg (Hawk's Castle 
on the Aar in north Switzerland) was elected King of the 
Romans, or Emperor of Germany. He is distinguished in 
history as the founder of the Imperial House of Austria. 
Lord of many lands and towns in Switzerland, he held be- 
sides, by the free choice of the foresters themselves, the 
advocacy or protectorship of the Forest States. He did not 
allow his elevation to the imperial throne to sever the ties 
which bound him to the mountainland. He spent much 
time among the Swiss ; and the many benefits and enlarged 
privileges they received from him were repaid on their part 
by unbroken affection and unbounded trust. 

But when, in 1298, his son Albert, Duke of Austria — 
which had been taken by Rodolph from Bohemia — was made 



30 SWITZERLAND 

emperor, a gloom fell upon Switzerland. It soon became 
clear that his design was to make himself despotic master of 
all the land. The Forest Cantons were placed under two 
bailiffs or governors, Gessler and Beringer, whose insolent 
tyranny grew intolerable. 

Three of the oppressed foresters, Walter Fiirst, Arnold 
von Melchthal, and Werner StaufFacher, met to plan the 
deliverance of their country. On a November night, in the 
meadow of Rutli by Lake Lucerne, these three patriots, in 
the presence of thirty tried friends, swore, beneath the starry 
sky, to die, if need were, in defence of their freedom. And 
all the thirty joining in the solemn vow, the coming New 
Year's night was fixed for striking the first blow. 

Meanwhile, Gessler, the Austrian bailiff, was slain by 
one of the thirty, William Tell, a native of Burglen, near 
Altorf, and famous over all the country for his skill with the 
cross-bow. The romantic story, upon which, however, 
some doubt has been cast by modern historians, runs 
thus : — 

Gessler, to try the temper of the Swiss, set up the ducal 
hat of Austria on a pole, in the market-place of Altorf, and 
commanded that all who passed it by should bow in homage. 
Tell, passing one day with his little son, made no sign of 
reverence. He was at once dragged before Gessler, who 
doomed him to die, unless with a bolt from his cross-bow 
he could hit an apple placed on his son's head. The boy 
was bound, and the apple balanced. Tell, led a long way 
off, aiming for some breathless seconds, cleft the little fruit 
to the core. But while shouts of joy were ringing from 
the gathered crowd, Gessler saw that Tell had a second 
arrow, which he had somehow contrived to hide while 
choosing one for his trying shot. . " Why," cried the bailiff, 




o 

H 



EARLY HISTORY 31 

" hast thou that second arrow ? *' And the bold answer 
was, " For thee, if the first had struck my child." 

In a violent rage, Gessler then ordered Tell to be chained, 
and carried across the lake to the prison of Kussnacht. A 
storm arising when they were half over, huge waves threat- 
ened to swamp the boat. By order of the governor. Tell, 
whose knowledge of the lake was remarkable, was un- 
chained and placed at the rudder. Resolved on a bold dash 
for liberty, he steered for a rocky shelf which jutted into 
the waters, sprang ashore, and was soon lost among the 
mountain glens. And some time after, hiding in a woody 
pass within a short distance of Kussnacht, he shot the 
tyrant Gessler dead with his unerring cross-bow. 

Thus for a few hours Tell shone out in the story of the 
world with a lustre that has never since grown dim. Dark- 
ness rests on his after-life. We know nothing more than 
that he fought in the great battle of Morgarten, and that in 
1350 he was drowned in a flooded river. 

The dawn of 1308 saw the foresters in arms. The 
Austrian castles were seized. The Alps were all alight 
with bonfires. Albert, hurriedly gathering an army, was 
advancing to crush the rising, when he was assassinated at 
the Reuss by his nephew, Duke John of Suabia. To their 
lasting honour, be it said, that the three revolted Cantons 
refused to shelter the murderer, who lived and died miserably 
in Italy. 

Three great battles — Morgarten, Sempach, and Nefels — 
mark the steps by which the brave Swiss achieved their in- 
dependence. 

Seven years after Albert's death, his son, Duke Leopold 
of Austria, resolving to pierce the mountains of Schweitz 
and punish the audacious herdsmen, left Zug with an army 



32 SWITZERLAND 

of 15,000 men, carrying great coils of rope to hang his 
prisoners. The pass of Morgarten, which ran for three 
miles between the steep rocks of Mount Sattel and the 
little Lake Egeri, was the only way by which heavy cavalry 
could pass into the doomed Canton. With the dawn of a 
November morning, as the sun shone red through a frosty 
fog, the Austrians entered the pass — a host of steel-clad 
knights in front, and the footmen following in close order. 
Their advance was known and prepared for. 

Fourteen hundred herdsmen, who had commended their 
cause and themselves to the God of battles, lined the rocky 
heights. Fifty exiles from Schweitz, burning to regain an 
honoured place among their countrymen, gathered on a 
jutting crag that overhung the entrance of the defile, and 
when the Austrians were well in the trap, hurled down 
great rocks and beams of wood upon the close-packed 
ranks. Amid the confusion, which was increased by the 
fog, the Swiss rushed from the heights, and with their 
halberts and iron-shod clubs beat down the Austrian knights 
in crowds. Horses plunged into the lake ; many knights 
fell back upon the footmen, trampling them to death. It 
was a woful day for Austria, and for chivalry, when the 
steel cuirass and the knightly lance went down before the 
pikes and clubs of a few untrained footmen. Duke 
Leopold scarcely saved himself by a headlong flight over 
the mountains to Winterthur, where he arrived late in the 
evening, a haggard, beaten man. 

The valour of the Schweitzers was so remarkable in this 
battle, and throughout the great future struggle, that the 
name of their Canton was extended to the whole country, 
henceforth named Switzerland. 

The three Cantons renewed their solemn league of mutual 



EARLY HISTORY 33 

defence. Lucerne joined the Confederation in 1335, Zurich 
and Zug in 1351; Glarus and Berne soon followed, thus 
completing the list of the eight ancient Cantons of the in- 
fant Republic. A treaty, ratified at Lucerne, is remarkable 
as being a distinct acknowledgment on the part of Austria 
that the Swiss had triumphed, and were free. The cease- 
less industry and steady economy of the mountaineers proved 
them worthy of the freedom they had so bravely won. 

But their task was not yet done. Bent on crushing the 
Confederation with one terrible blow, Leopold, Duke of 
Suabia, one of the Hapsburg line, marched from Baden to- 
wards Lucerne (1386). He found his way barred at 
Sempach by 1,300 men, who held the wooded heights 
round the lake. The Austrian force consisted of 4,000 
horse, and 1,400 foot. At the hastily-summoned council 
the arrogant nobles were loud in their cry that the peasant 
rabble should be crushed at once, without waiting for the 
rest of the army. And rashly the duke gave orders for the 
fight. As the broken mountain-ground was unfit for 
cavalry movements, the knights, dismounting, formed a 
solid mass of steel, blazing in the hot harvest sun. 

A short prayer, and the Swiss were formed for the 
charge. On they came, the gallant mountain men, some 
with boards on their left arms instead of shields. But the 
iron wall stood fast, with its bristling fence unbroken ; sixty 
of their little band lay bleeding on the earth ; the wings of 
the Austrian line were curving round to hem them in a fatal 
ring, when Arnold von Winkelried, a knight of Under- 
walden, dashing with open arms on the Austrian lances, 
swept together as many as he could reach, and, as they 
pierced his brave breast, bore their points with him to the 
ground. Like lightning the Swiss were through the gap ; 



34 SWITZERLAND 

the Austrian line was broken ; all was rout and dismay. 
Two thousand knights perished on the field. Duke Leopold 
himself died while gallantly defending the torn and bloody 
banner of Austria. 

This brilliant success was followed, two years later, by 
another at Nefels, in which 6,000 Austrians were scattered 
by a handful of Swiss. Here, as at Morgarten, rocks flung 
from the heights caused the first disorder in the Austrian 
lines. 

At the diet of Zurich, held in 1393, a general law-martial, 
called the Sempach Convention, was framed to bind the 
eight Cantons together in firmer league. It enacted that it 
was the duty of every true Switzer " to avoid unnecessary 
feuds, but where a war was unavoidable, to unite cordially 
and loyally together; not to flee in any battle before the 
contest should be decided, even if wounded, but to remain 
masters of the field ; not to attempt pillage before the gen- 
eral had sanctioned it ; and to spare churches, convents, and 
defenceless females." 

So Switzerland shook oflF the yoke of Austria; and 
never since, but once, when for a time Napoleon laid his 
giant grasp upon her, has the liberty won at Morgarten and 
Sempach been imperilled. 



SUCCESSFUL STRUGGLE FOR 
INDEPENDENCE 

HENRT HALL AM 

THE burghers and peasants of Switzerland, ill pro- 
vided with cavalry, and better able to dispense 
with it than the natives of champaign countries, 
may be deemed the principal restorers of the Greek and 
Roman tactics, which place the strength of armies in a 
steady mass of infantry. Besides their splendid victories 
over the dukes of Austria, and their own neighbouring no- 
bility, they had repulsed, in 1375, one of those predatory 
bodies of troops, the scourge of Europe in that age. They 
gave the Dauphin, afterwards Louis XL, who entered their 
country in 1444 with a similar body of ruffians, called Ar- 
magnacs, sufficient reason to desist from his invasion and 
to respect their valour. That able prince formed indeed so 
high a notion of the Swiss, that he sedulously cultivated 
their alliance during the rest of his life. He was made 
abundantly sensible of the wisdom of this policy, when he 
saw his greatest enemy, the Duke of Burgundy, routed at 
Granson and Morat, and his affairs irrecoverably ruined by 
these hardy republicans. The ensuing age is the most con- 
spicuous, though not the most essentially glorious, in the 
history of Switzerland. Courted for the excellence of their 
troops by the rival sovereigns of Europe, and themselves 
too sensible both to ambitious schemes of dominion and to 
the thirst of money, the United Cantons came to play a 



36 SWITZERLAND 

very prominent part in the wars of Lombardy, with great 
military renown, but not without some impeachment of that 
sterling probity which had distinguished their earlier efforts 
for independence. Their independence was finally ratified 
in 1500. Though the House of Austria had ceased to 
menace the liberties of Helvetia, and had even been for 
many years its ally, the Emperor Maximilian, aware of the 
important service he might derive from the Cantons in his 
projects upon Italy, as well as the disadvantage he sustained 
by their partiality to French interest, endeavoured to revive 
the unextinguished supremacy of the Empire. That su- 
premacy had just been restored in Germany by the establish- 
ment of the Imperial Chamber, and of a regular pecuniary 
contribution for its support as well as for other purposes, in 
the Diet of Worms. The Helvetic Cantons were sum- 
moned to yield obedience to these Imperial laws ; an innova- 
tion, for such the revival of obsolete prerogatives must be 
considered, exceedingly hostile to their Republican inde- 
pendence, and involving consequences not less material in 
their eyes, the abandonment of a line of policy which tended 
to enrich, if not to aggrandize them. Their refusal to 
comply brought on a war, wherein the Tyrolese subjects 
of Maximilian, and the Suabian League, a confederacy of 
cities in that province lately formed under the Emperor's 
auspices, were principally engaged against the Swiss. But 
the success of the latter was decisive ; and after a terrible 
devastation of the frontiers of Germany, peace was con- 
cluded upon terms very honourable for Switzerland. The 
Cantons were declared free from the jurisdiction of the Im- 
perial Chamber, and from all contributions imposed by the 
Diet. Their right to enter into foreign alliance, even hos- 
tile to the Empire, if it was not expressly recognized, con- 



STRUGGLE FOR INDEPENDENCE 37 

tinued unimpaired in practice; nor am I aware that they 
were at any time afterwards supposed to incur the crime of 
rebellion by such proceedings. Though, perhaps, in the 
strictest letter of public law, the Swiss Cantons were not 
absolutely released from their subjection to the Empire until 
the Treaty of Westphalia (1648), their real sovereignty 
must be dated from the year when every prerogative which 
a government can exercise was finally abandoned. 



POLITICAL HISTORY FROM THE RE- 
NAISSANCE TO THE PRESENT DAY 



A 



J. SOWERBT 

FTER the defeat of Burgundy, the fame of the 
Swiss troops was spread throughout Europe, and 
their soldiers were eagerly sought after. This 
mercenary service was approved of by the Forest Cantons, 
though opposed by the towns. A cause of internal dissen- 
sion was the admission of new members to the Confedera- 
tion. In 1477, when Zurich, Berne and Lucerne wished to 
add Fribourg and Soleure, the Three Lands opposed, fearing 
a diminution of their own influence. In 148 1, the two 
towns were admitted, though with limitations. The ques- 
tion of foreign enlistment led to a bitter quarrel between 
Zurich and Lucerne. Hans Waldmann, who was all-pow- 
erful at Zurich, was opposed to mercenary service, whilst 
Frischaus Thieling, a favourite soldier of fortune in Lucerne, 
was a warm partisan. Thieling was at last seized in Zurich 
and executed by Waldmann's orders, and this cruel act 
contributed greatly to Waldmann's fall in 1489, when at- 
tacked by the nobles and the country party. After the 
Swiss mercenaries had taken part in many of the great bat- 
tles in the early part of the Sixteenth Century, their loss at 
the defeat of Marignano (15 15), was so great that the Con- 
federation withdrew from taking an active part in European 
wars, though foreign powers, who lavished much money 




o 
u 

< 



POLITICAL HISTORY 39 

for that purpose, were still allowed to levy troops in various 
Cantons. 

When the movement of the religious reformation spread 
from Germany into Switzerland, Zwingli, at Zurich, advo- 
cated also a political reformation, and insisted on the aboli- 
tion of mercenary service. This at once arrayed the Forest 
Cantons against him. One reformation hindered the other. 
There was continual friction between the parties in the 
subject lands, which were alternately under the management 
of either, especially in Thurgau. This culminated in war, 
which at first was terminated by the armistice of Kappel 
(1529), and later by the complete victory of the Catholic 
Cantons at Kappel (153 1), in which Zwingli himself fell. 
The peace which followed, however, assured toleration, 
even in the common subject lands. But, in spite of this, 
the religious feelings of both parties became more bitter. 
The Confederation was divided into two hostile camps. 
Whilst the Reformed Cantons sought to strengthen them- 
selves by alliances with Holland and England, the Catholic 
Cantons instituted a counter-reformation, promoted by 
Carlo Borromeo, Archbishop of Milan. In 1586, they 
formed the Borromean or Golden League to maintain the 
Catholic faith, and formed alliances with Pope Sixtus V. 
and Phillip II. of Spain. Meanwhile other troubles came 
upon the town Cantons. The councils in the towns had 
by degrees grown to consider themselves absolute lords of 
the lower classes of citizens, and of the peasants outside. 
Taxes were levied at their pleasure over the whole district. 
The country people in particular were aggrieved at a tax 
they had to pay for driving cattle on to pasture and for 
bringing articles of produce to market ; and above all by re- 
peated debasements of the coinage, which sometimes at a 



40 SWITZERLAND 

stroke reduced their savings by twenty-five or fifty percent. 
In 1570, there was a rising against these oppressions in 
Lucerne ; and, in 1652, a much more serious one, commenc- 
ing in the Entlebuch. The people asked for the removal 
of various restrictions on manufactures, trade and com- 
merce. These were rejected (1653) ^"^ ^^^ subjects in 
Entlebuch declared to be rebellious grumblers, who deserved 
severe chastisement. The peasants of Entlebuch, in com- 
mon with those of Berne, Soleure and Basle agreed to act 
together and compel the Government to redress their griev- 
ances. These were so great that religious differences were 
forgotten, and Catholics and Protestants acted together. 
Their demands were disregarded by the Diet, which de- 
termined to repress the movement by force. The peasants 
had to yield before the regular troops, their leaders were 
executed, and their downtrodden condition was indefinitely 
prolonged. 

The next disturbance in the Forest Cantons was due to 
religious differences. When Berne and Zurich wished to 
reform the Federal constitution and effect a closer union 
between the Cantons, this was hindered by the old Cantons, 
which feared a limitation of their former privileges. In 
their jealousy, the Catholic Cantons, in violation of their 
engagements, renewed the Borromean League (1655) and 
formed an alliance with France ; and the Reformed Cantons 
replied by allying themselves with Holland and England. 
Whilst the troops of Zurich fruitlessly besieged Rapper- 
schwyl, the Bernese were surprised and defeated at Vil- 
mergen in Aargau, 1656. The neutral Cantons effected an 
armistice, but the Catholic Cantons obtained the privilege 
of expelling all members who did not conform to their way 
of thinking. The forces of Berne and the Catholic Cantons 



POLITICAL HISTORY 41 

again encountered at Vilmergen (17 12) but the Reformed 
party was victorious. The Catholic Cantons were deprived 
of all share in the government of Baden, and the lower 
part of the free bailiwicks, in which they were replaced by 
Berne. The supremacy obtained by the Catholics in 1656 
was transferred to Berne and Zurich ; but the divisions in 
the Confederation became still more embittered. 

After the first Vilmergen war, the whole thirteen 
Cantons had renewed the treaty with France. In return 
for certain concessions in trade, etc., and a pension of 3,000 
francs per year to each Canton, besides pay for the troops, 
the Confederation undertook to supply France with a num- 
ber of troops, varying from 6,000 to 16,000. The Con- 
federation wished to observe a neutral attitude ; and when 
Louis XIV. (1666-1668) violated this agreement by entering 
Franche Comte, which was, according to treaty, neutral ter- 
ritory, the danger moved them to withdraw their mercena- 
ries, and to think of forming a force of 40,000 men to pre- 
serve their neutrality. But the influence of French gold 
soon effected a change. The armies of the French and the 
allies were still composed largely of Swiss mercenaries ; as 
many as 35,000 serving under Louis XIV. in his last war in 
the Palatinate (1688-1697). 

The bitter feeling between Protestants and Catholics 
continued during the first half of the Eighteenth Century. 
The Catholics were constantly thinking how to regain what 
they had lost ; and each regarded the other as heretics. 
The efforts of patriotic citizens in some degree softened 
this bitterness, and material progress and increased pros- 
perity diminished the love of foreign enlistment. But the 
oppression of the ruling families in the towns became 
greater. In no case were the lower classes benefited by 



42 SWITZERLAND 

the dissensions among their rulers. They were even for- 
bidden to discuss the decrees issued by their superiors. 
When the French Revolution broke out, both the op- 
pressed citizens and the subject lands welcomed it with 
enthusiasm. 

In 1797-8, the French imposed a new constitution on 
Switzerland. The subject lands were freed, and formed 
into nine new Cantons. The Three Lands were formed 
into a single Canton, called the Waldstatte. Lucerne re- 
mained unaltered. The Three Lands opposed the consti- 
tution because it deprived them of all their privileges. 
When the first Parliament was summoned, only ten 
Cantons (Lucerne amongst them) sent deputies, mostly 
from west Switzerland. The eastern Cantons complied, on 
being threatened, but the Three Lands refused. Schwyz 
and Uri, after a brave resistance at Rothenthurm capitu- 
lated, and gave in their adherence to the Helvetic con- 
stitution, but Nidwald persisted in their refusal, and their 
desperate resistance was terminated by the massacre of 
Staus. Switzerland in 1799, became the theatre of war, 
and parts of it, Uri in particular, were traversed many times 
by the hostile armies, and the unfortunate Inhabitants as- 
cribed all their sufferings to the new constitution. After 
repeated struggles. Napoleon proposed the Act of Media- 
tion in 1803. By this the thirteen old Cantons were 
restored, and ten new ones were formed out of the allied 
and subject lands. This arrangement satisfied nobody. In 
18 15, the Cantons were arranged as at present, Geneva, 
Neuchatel and Wallis being added. Lucerne reverted to 
the old Patriciate form of government. The liberty of the 
press was restricted. The French Revolution of 1830 
raised a commotion all over Switzerland ; Unterwalden and 



POLITICAL HISTORY 43 

Uri alone remained unmoved. The clerical party here were 
strong enough to repress all desire for change. 

In 1832, seven Cantons formed a union (Siebner Con- 
cordat) to effect a revision of the Federal Constitution. 
Soon after the outer districts of Canton Schwyz separated 
from the old Land Schwyz and their action was approved 
by the Federal Parliament. Upon this, deputies from the 
Three Lands, met at Sarnen, protested against the admission 
of deputies from Basle and outer Schwyz, and formed a 
separate league (Sonderbund). At last as the seven Cantons 
disregarded all the warnings of the Federal Parliament to dis- 
solve the Sonderbund, both parties prepared for war. The 
Sonderbund mustered 80,000 men ; the Reformed Cantons 
100,000. The former was defeated on November 23rd, 
and Lucerne entered the next day. The members of the 
Sonderbund Government fled to Uri and the other Cantons 
capitulated. The Jesuits were expelled and Liberal 
Governments formed everywhere. By the new constitu- 
tion, the independent authority of the Cantons was re- 
stricted in favour of a strong central government. This 
was accepted in September, 1848, by a large majority of 
the Cantons and of the population. The war was thus 
terminated, but the remembrance of the defeat long rankled 
in the minds of the conquered. 

Since 1848, Switzerland has been disturbed by no serious 
outbreak. In the disturbances that subsequently convulsed 
Europe, she was able to remain neutral. The quarrels of 
Liberals and Ultramontancs have had to account for some 
difficulties, such as that in Tessin in 1890. But these have 
not affected the Forest Cantons, which are almost ex- 
clusively Catholic. If they have not participated to the 
same extent as other parts of Switzerland in the great ad- 



44 SWITZERLAND 

vances which have taken place in national life, In trade and 
manufactures, in material and moral improvement, they 
have to a greater extent than any other shared in the influx 
of prosperity, produced by the fashion which brings an- 
nually an increasing flow of tourists to visit the most 
beautiful scenes in Europe. And although in some ways, 
now and then, the effect of this influx is demoralizing, still, 
behind there is no lack of patriotic feeling, and a real sense 
of the inheritance which the Swiss have received from their 
forefathers. 



MODES OF TRAVEL 

ARTHUR SHAD WELL MARTIN 

THE modes of travelling in Switzerland are various j 
one can go by railway, by steamer, by diligence^ 
by private conveyance, and by horse or mule-back. 
The country is now crossed in every direction by rail- 
roads, that connect all the Swiss towns. The development 
of railroads of late years has been remarkable, considering 
the fact that down to 1854 there existed only one short 
line — from Zurich to Baden, a small village in the neigh- 
bourhood. The reason of the dilatoriness of the Swiss in 
harnessing the Iron Horse was not due to physical obstacles, 
or difficulties, as is generally supposed, because, with the 
exception of the passes over the central mountains of the 
Jura and Alps, the engineering problems to be solved are 
simple in comparison with those encountered in cross- 
ing the Rockies. The districts around Berne, Aarau, 
Neuchatel, Lausanne and other towns do not present a very 
difficult surface, and railroads can easily penetrate far into 
the recesses of the Alps by means of the valleys of the 
Rhine and Rhone. The chief difficulty lay in the mutual 
and violent jealousy of the Cantons, and even of the various 
communes or parishes. After 1848, however, the new 
government's Department of Public Works planned and 
executed a system of railways ; and private enterprise also 
built important roads. In i860, the total mileage of the 
railroads was only 664; this had increased to 2,303 in 
1900 ; and 2,936 in 1905.. 



SWITZERLAND 

In 1898, the Swiss people voted for the Government 
purchase of the principal lines; and therefore on May ist, 
1903, they became the property of the Confederation under 
the name of Federal Railways {Bundes hahnen). An ex- 
ception was the St. Gotthard line, which, owing to interna- 
tional conventions, will not be delivered till 1909. At the 
end of 1905, 1,516 miles of railway had been acquired by 
the Government. The total of 2,936 miles consisted of 
1,470 miles of principal Swiss railway lines, forty-three 
miles of foreign railways within Switzerland, and 1,423 
miles of secondary railways and tramways. The electric 
line from Thun to Burgdorf, constructed in 1899, was the 
first electric non-mountain line, and since then the number 
has greatly multiplied. Triumphs of engineering are dis- 
played in the St. Gotthard, Mt. Cenis, Albula and Simplon 
tunnels ; and many roads and tunnels, which would have 
been regarded as impossible achievements not many years 
ago, are now in course of construction. The success of 
the Mountain Railways up the Rigi and Pilatus has been 
followed by the building of many other cog-wheel, cable, 
electric and funicular railways. The highest yet is the 
Gornergrat, but the boldest scheme is that of a line from 
the Little Scheidegg to the summit of the Jungfrau. It 
was stated in September, 1907, that in consequence of the 
success of this undertaking so far, the construction of the 
extension of the line to the Jungfrau Joch, at a height of 
11,150 feet, would be put in hand forthwith. The new 
station will be on the opposite side of the Monch, about 
two and one-half miles from the existing station at Mer de 
Glace (10,363 feet). The gradient will therefore be light, 
but it was estimated that the work would occupy four 
years. 




< 
O 

O 

PL, 
t^ 

H 



MODES OF TRAVEL 47 

The extension to the St. Gervais La Fayet to Chamonix 
electric line from the latter place to Argentieve was officially 
opened during the summer of 1906. There are two sta- 
tions on the new stretch — Les Praz, about one and one- 
half miles from Chamonix ; and Les Tines, at the foot of 
the Mer de Glace, about half way between Les Praz and 
Argentieve. The latter is 4,100 feet above the sea, and 
600 feet higher than Chamonix. In June, 1907, the per- 
manent way of the rack electric railway from La Fayet to 
the summit of Mont Blanc (begun in 1905) had been car- 
ried half-way. A Mont Blanc tunnel is also contemplated. 
Leaving Aosta at an altitude of 1,246 feet, it will follow 
the Dore as far as Pre Saint Didier at a height of 3,268 
feet, and pierce Mont Blanc by a tunnel 11. 18 miles in 
length, issuing on the Swiss side at Chamonix. The total 
distance covered will be thirty-six miles. 

In 1906, work was begun on the Loetschberg Tunnel, 
which is to cost 37,000,000 francs. Its length is to be 
about eight miles ; and it will be the shortest and quickest 
route through France and Switzerland between Boulogne 
or Calais and Brindisi. 

In January, 1907, a concession was obtained for the con- 
struction of a railway from the Zermatt Valley to the sum- 
mit of the Matterhorn (14,780 feet high). The first sec- 
tion of the line will be from Viege station over the Zmiitt- 
bach plateau of Lac Noir to the Matterhorn hut, about 
10,000 feet high. A tunnel which will be almost perpen- 
dicular and nearly 5,000 feet long, will then be driven into 
the side of the mountain from the hut to the summit of the 
Matterhorn. It will cost ;^20,ooo,ooo, and will take four 
years to complete. 

In 1907, also, ""he Swiss Confederation, concluded an 



48 SWITZERLAND 

agreement with the Canton of Ticino, to last forty years, 
whereby the whole water power of the Levantine Valley 
will be used as hydraulic power to work the St. Gotthard 
Tunnel Railway by electricity. In May, 1907, also, the 
Canton of Valais, granted a concession of a line, thirty-one 
miles long, between Brieg and the Rhone glacier, joining 
the Simplon and St. Gotthard. 

In July, 1907, the boring of still another Alpine tunnel 
was completed. This was the Tauern (9,324 yards long) 
which affords a new connection with Trieste. The north- 
ern entrance, 3,840 feet high, is in the valley of the Anlauf, 
about two and a half miles from the baths of Gastein 
Station ; and the southern entrance, 3,998 feet high, is not 
far from Mallnitz, in Carinthia. 

Steamers now run on all the principal lakes and rivers; 
and are an important adjunct to internal communication. 
Those on Lake Geneva and Lake Lucerne and on the 
Italian lakes are spacious boats, with upper decks and good 
restaurants on board. In 1904, the traffic on Swiss waters 
was carried on by 232 steamboats belonging to fifteen 
companies. 

" Murray " tells us : " Well appointed diligences traverse 
almost every road in Switzerland where railways have not 
been built, and connect the chief railway stations with 
places in their vicinity. They belong to the Federal Gov- 
ernment, and are attached to the post-office, as in Germany. 
The regular diligences have a coupe in front, with three seats, 
and a banquette^ with two seats, on the roof behind the box. 
The interieur^ or second-class compartment, has four seats, 
and occupies the body of the cumbrous vehicle. The con- 
ductor has an outside seat on the box. On the great roads 
frequented by tourists there are more luxurious diligences^ 



MODES OF TRAVEL 49 

with two seats in the coupe.^ four on the roof, while the roof 
of the tnt'erieur (but not that of the coupe) can be opened at 
pleasure." 

The pace along level ground seldom exceeds six miles 
an hour; at the smallest symptom of a hill the horses fall 
into a walk; down hill they occasionally go fast; and to 
those who have not become hardened by use, it is rather a 
nervous thing to see the heavy diligence turn round the 
corners of the zigzags in the face of precipices, with the 
reins flying loose, and the horses apparently under no con- 
trol. They, however, know the road, and accidents very 
seldom occur. 

Previous to 1800, when Napoleon commenced the con- 
struction of the magnificent carriage roads which will assist 
in immortalizing his name, the usual mode of conveying 
either passengers or goods across the Alps was on the backs 
of men, or of horses or mules. Even now, upon certain 
minor passes, the entire traffic is carried on by the same 
means. In other instances, where the beauties of the 
scenery attract an influx of strangers, mules are kept for 
their convenience, particularly in making short excursions. 

The horses used on the Bernese Oberland, and in other 
parts of Switzerland, are clever animals which will carry 
you up and down ascents perfectly impracticable to horses 
unused to mountains, but they are perhaps excelled by the 
mules of Chamonix and other parts of Savoy. Of these, 
the sagacity, strength and sureness of foot are really won- 
derful. The paths which they ascend or descend with ease 
are steeper than any staircase, sometimes with rugged rocks 
two or three feet high instead of steps. Sometimes they 
are covered with broken fragments, between which the 
beasts must pick their way, at the risk of breaking their 



so SWITZERLAND 

legs ; at others they traverse a narrow ledge, with an abyss 
on one side, and a granite cliff on the other. In such 
dangerous passes the caution of the animal is very re- 
maikable; he needs no rein, but will pick his own way, 
and find out the best track far better than his rider; and 
in such circumstances, it is safer to trust entirely to his 
sagacity than to attempt to guide him, for by confusing the 
animal, there will be risk of his losing his footing, and per- 
haps tumbling headlong. There are very few accidents 
from the falling of the animals. The chief danger in 
Alpine riding consists in the risk that a traveller may be 
placed on the back of an animal hitherto accustomed only 
to inanimate burdens. This naturally arises most com- 
monly in unfrequented districts, and especially affects 
ladies. Descending the passes on horseback is generally 
disagreeable, and sometimes dangerous ; and the rider 
should always dismount when requested to do so by the 
guide. In fact, those who can walk fairly should, if they 
have not too much luggage, only hire the horses to the top 
of the pass, as they will be of comparatively little use on 
the descent. Each saddle has a flap or pillon attached on 
which a knapsack or carpet-bag not weighing more than 
about thirty pounds may be carried. 

A chaise a porteurs (Germ. Tragsessel ; It. Portantina) is 
nothing more than an armchair borne upon poles in the 
manner of a sedan. This was the customary manner of 
conveying travellers across the Alps down to the latter 
half of the Eighteenth Century. Later, it survived in 
certain Alpine valleys for the convenience of timid ladies, 
but nowadays it has become a great rarity, and is only to 
be met with occasionally. 



ALPINE PASSES 

W, A. B. COOLIDGE 

NO part of the Alps is more interesting, either in 
a picturesque or in an historical point of view, than 
the passable gaps or notches in the ridge of the 
great chain, and in the minor mountain buttresses branch- 
ing from it, whereby alone this colossal wall of mountains 
may be scaled, and a direct passage and communication 
maintained between northern and southern Europe, as well 
as between one valley and another. It has been through 
these depressions that the great tide of population has poured 
since the earliest times ; from these outlets have issued the 
barbarian swarms which so often desolated, and at last, 
annihilated the Roman Empire. There are more than fifty 
of these passes over the Swiss portion of the Alpine chain 
alone, or immediately communicating with the Swiss 
frontier. 

In seeking a passage over the Alps, the most obvious course 
was to find out the valleys which penetrate farthest into the 
great chain, to follow the rivers to their sources, and then 
to take the lowest traversable part in order to descend the 
opposite side. The variety and sudden transitions presented 
by such a route are highly interesting. In the course of one 
day's journey the traveller passes in succession from one 
stretch of valley to another by a steeper ascent and defile, 
from the climate of summer to winter, through spring. 
The alteration in the productions keeps pace with that of 



52 SWITZERLAND 

the temperature. Leaving behind him stubble-fields, whence 
the corn has been removed and housed, he comes to fields 
yet yellovi^ and waving in the ear ; a few miles farther and 
the crop is still green j yet higher, and corn refuses to grow. 
Before quitting the region of corn, he enters one of dark, 
apparently interminable forests of pine and larch, clothing 
the mountain-sides in a sober vestment. Above this, the 
hay-makers are collecting the short grass, the only produce 
which the ground will yield. Yet the stranger must not 
suppose that all is barrenness even at this elevation. It 
seems as though Nature were determined to make one last 
effort at the confines of vegetation. From beneath the 
snow-bed, and on the very verge of the glacier, the pro- 
fusion of flowers, their great variety and surpassing beauty 
are exceedingly surprising. Some of the greatest ornaments 
of our gardens, here born to blush unseen, — gentians, vio- 
lets, anemones and blue-bells, intermixed with bushes of the 
red rhododendron, the loveliest production of the Alps, 
scattered over the velvet turf, give it the appearance of 
carpet of richest pattern. The insect world is not less 
abundant and varied, — thousands of winged creatures are 
seen hovering over the flowers, enjoying their short exist- 
ence, for the summer at these elevations lasts but for three 
or four weeks : a premature winter soon cuts short this 
brief season of animal and vegetable activity. Above this 
region of spring, with its gush of waters, its young herbage 
and vivid green-sward, its hum of insects just burst forth 
and its natural flower-beds glittering with rain-drops, that 
winter in Lapland or Siberia succeeds. The traveller may 
form an idea of the height he has reached by observing the 
vegetation. Vines disappear at 2,000 feet, generally sooner; 
oak-trees and wheat at 3,000 feet ; beeches and barley at 




CO 

CO 

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Oh 

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ALPINE PASSES 53 

4,000 feet ; pines and firs at 6,000 feet. Above 9,000 feet, 
flowering plants are very rare; but up to 11,000 feet they 
are found in sunny crevices. Above 11,000 feet a few 
blackened lichens alone preserve the semblance of vegetable 
life. It will of course be understood that in favourable 
situations these limits will be exceeded ; in unfavourable 
situations they will not be reached. At the summit of a 
high pass and amongst the glaciers the rarified air is icy 
cold, and exercise and quick motion are necessary to keep 
up the circulation of the blood. The agreeable murmur of 
falling water, which has accompanied the traveller hitherto 
incessantly, here ceases — all is solitude and silence, inter- 
rupted only by the shrill whistle of the marmot, or the 
hoarse croaking of an ill-omened raven. The ptarmigan 
starts up from among the broken rocks on the verge of the 
snow-field at the traveller's approach, and the lammergeier 
(the condor of the Alps) disturbed in his repast on the car- 
case of a sheep or cow, may sometimes be seen soaring in 
a succession of spiral sweeps till he gains the ridge of the 
Alps, and then disappears. But the most striking change 
of all is that from the region of snow and ice on the top of 
the mountain, to the sunny clime and rich vegetation of 
Italy, which await the traveller at the southern foot of the 
Alps. 

The works of Nature, however, will not entirely occupy 
the attention and wonder of the wanderer in such a pass ; at 
least a share will be demanded for admiration of the works of 
man. The great highways, passable for carriages, over the 
high Alps, are, indeed, most surprising monuments of human 
skill and enterprise in surmounting what would appear, at 
first sight, to be intended by Nature as insurmountable. 
These proud constructions of art thread the valleys, cross 



54 SWITZERLAND 

the debris of rivers on long causeways, skirt the edge of the 
precipice, with walls of rock tottering over them, and tor- 
rents thundering below. Where the steep and hard surface 
of the cliff has not left an inch of space for a goat to climb 
along, they are conducted upon high terraces of solid ma- 
sonry, or through a notch blasted by gunpowder in the wall 
of rock. In many instances, a projecting buttress of the 
mountain has blocked up all passage for ages, saying, " Thus 
far shalt thou go and no farther," the skill of the modern 
engineer has pierced through this a tunnel or gallery ; and 
the difficulty is vanquished, without the least change in the 
level of the road. 

Sometimes an impediment is eluded by throwing bridges 
over a dizzy gorge, and shifting the road from side to side, 
frequently two or three times within the space of half a mile. 
Often the road reaches a spot down which the winter ava- 
lanches take their habitual course, sweeping everything be- 
fore them, and which, even in summer, appears reeking and 
dripping with the lingering fragments of snow. Will not so 
irresistible an antagonist arrest the course of this frail under- 
taking by man ? Not even the avalanche ; — in such a situa- 
tion the road either buries itself in subterranean galleries, 
driven through the mountain, or is sheltered by massive 
arcades of masonry, sometimes half or three-quarters of a 
mile long. Over these the avalanche glides harmlessly, and 
is turned into the depths below. 

Every opportunity is seized of gaining, by easy ascents, 
a higher level for the road ; at length comes the main as- 
cent, the central ridge, to be surmounted only by hard climb- 
ing. This is overcome by a succession of zigzag terraces, 
called tourniquets or giravolte^ connected together by wide 
curves, to allow carriages to turn easily and rapidly. So 



ALPINE PASSES SS 

skilful is their construction, with such easy bends and so grad- 
ual a slope, that in many Alpine roads the drivers, with 
horses accustomed to the road^ trot down at a rapid pace. 
Sometimes as many as fifty of these zigzags succeed one 
another without interruption ; and the traveller, as he passes 
backwards and forwards, hovering over the valley, is as 
though suspended to a pendulum, and swinging to and fro. 
The road itself has a most singular appearance, twisted 
about like an uncoiled rope or a riband unwound. 

The travelling-carriage descends sometimes rapidly and 
without interruption for hours. A drag of tempered iron 
is quickly worn down, in that time, as thin as the blade of 
a knife, so great is the friction; and it is usual to substitute 
for the iron drag a wooden sahot^ formed of the section of a 
fir-tree, with a groove cut in the centre to admit the 
wheel. 

The winter's snow usually falls upon the Alpine passes 
more than 5,000 feet high about the second week in Octo- 
ber (sometimes earlier), and continues till the first or sec- 
ond week in June. Yet even after this, the passage across 
the neck or Col, as it is called, is not stopped, except for a 
few days, until the snow can be cleared away. In some of 
the minor passes, indeed, traversed by a mere rough foot- 
path, or bridle-path, the traflic is much increased after the 
fall of snow, which, by filling up depressions and smooth- 
ing the way, permits the transport of heavy merchandise on 
sledges, which move easily over the surface as soon as it is 
hardened. 

Along the lines of the great carriage roads strong houses 
are erected at intervals called Maisons de Refuge^ Case di 
Ricovero^ occupied by persons called Cantonniers, who are 
employed in mending the road and keeping it free from 



56 SWITZERLAND 

snow, and are also paid to assist travellers in danger during 
snow-storms. 

As near as possible to the summit of a pass, a Hospice is 
generally erected, usually occupied by a band of charitable 
monks, as in the case of the Great and Little St. Bernard, 
the Simplon, Mt. Cenis, etc. The direction of the road 
across the summit of the ridge is marked by a line of tall 
poles, which project above the snow, and, from being 
painted black, are easily recognized. Bells are rung in 
tempestuous weather, when the tourmente is raging and the 
mist and falling snow hide the landmarks, that the sound 
may aid when the sight fails. 

The morning after a fall of snow, labourers and peasants 
are assembled from all sides to shovel it ofF the road. 
Where it is not very deep, it is cleared away by a snow- 
plough drawn by six or eight oxen. As the winter advances 
and fresh falls occur, the snow accumulates, and the road 
near the summit of a pass presents the singular aspect of a 
path or lane cut between walls of snow, sometimes ten or 
twenty feet high. Carriages are taken off their wheels and 
fastened upon sledges; ropes are attached to the roof which 
are held by six or eight sturdy guides running along on each 
side, to prevent the vehicle upsetting and rolling over the 
slippery ice down a precipice. More commonly, however, 
travellers are transferred to light, narrow one-horse sledges, 
each carrying two passengers, by which communication is 
kept up, except during storms, when no living animal can 
withstand the fury of the elements. In this manner very 
high passes are crossed in the depth of winter with little 
risk. The spring is the season during which far greater 
danger is to be apprehended from the avalanches which then 
fall. 



ALPINE PASSES 57 

The Swiss are essentially a road-making nation, and had 
good roads when those of Continental Europe generally 
were still execrable. It is, however, strange that, after 
having spent enormous time and money in making a road 
level and good enough for a mail-coach at eleven miles an 
hour, they should persist in crawling along «t five or six 
miles an hour. 



AVALANCHES 

, ELISEE RECLUS 

THE accumulated layers of snow do not remain for- 
ever on the sides and summits of mountains. 
Since every year, on the average, thirty-three feet 
of snow fall on the mountains of the Alps, these peaks 
would, in fact, in the course of a century, increase 33,000 
feet in height, if the humidity falling from the clouds in the 
form of snow-flakes was not evaporated into the atmos- 
phere, or did not find its way down into the valleys below. 
The heat of the sun and meteoric influences commence 
the work of clearing away the snow. It has been calcu- 
lated that the solar rays will melt as much as twenty to 
twenty-eight inches of snow in a day, especially when the 
upper layers are not very dense, and allow the heat to 
penetrate to some depth under the surface. The rain and 
tepid mists which the winds convey on to the mountain 
slopes also lend their aid in thawing the snowy layers, and 
sometimes indeed with more effect than the rays of the sun. 
The cold winds likewise assist by blowing up the snow into 
whirlwinds, and thus transferring it to lower slopes where 
the temperature is higher. There is not one violent wintry 
squall which does not remove thousands of cubic yards of 
snow from the summits of lofty mountains, as may easily 
be seen from below, when the peaks beaten by the wind 
appear to smoke like craters, and the powdered flakes are 
dispersed in whirlwinds. The warm and dry winds, how 




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AVALANCHES 59 

ever, effect still more than storms in diminishing the masses 
of snow which lie heavy on the summits. Thus the south 
wind, which is called f'dhn by the Swiss mountaineers, will 
m twelve hours melt or cause to evaporate a bed of snow 
three quarters of a yard thick. It " eats up the snow," as 
the proverb says, and brings spring back again on the moun- 
tains. Next to the sun, the f'dhn is the principal climatic 
agent in the Alpine districts. 

It would be very important if we could establish the av- 
erage proportions of the masses of snow which fall upon the 
mountains which are lost by melting and evaporation re- 
spectively. In valleys where the sides are composed of hard 
rocks which retain the water on the surface, it would suffice 
to measure the annual discharge of the torrent, and to com- 
pare it with the quantity of rain-water and snow which has 
fallen in the basin during the same period, and we should 
approximately ascertain all that has been lost en route^ being 
drawn from it either by the innumerable roots of the plants 
growing in it, or directly by evaporation. At all events, 
it is certain that this latter cause of diminution is very im- 
portant, for even during calm weather, and at three or four 
degrees below freezing-point, the superficial surface of the 
snow constantly supplies to the atmosphere a certain portion 
of aqueous vapour. Under the influence of the sun and 
wind evaporation increases very rapidly. 

But these slow and gradual means are not the only causes 
of the diminution of the mountain snows ; they also sink 
down in masses into the valleys, and thus expose themselves 
directly to the influence of heat. The masses which thus 
rush down the slopes are avalanches, likewise called in the 
Alps lavanges and challanches. The greater part of these 
downfalls of snow occur with great regularity, so much so 



6o SWITZERLAND 

that an old mountaineer, who is clever at discerning the 
signs of the weather, can often announce by a mere glance 
at the surface of the snow the exact time at which the sub- 
sidence will take place. The path of the avalanche is com- 
pletely marked out on the mountain-side. At the outlets 
of the wide mountain amphitheatres in which the snows of 
winter are accumulated, narrow passages open, hollowed 
out in the thickness of the rock. Like torrents, only that 
they appear but for a moment and are suddenly gone, the 
masses of snow which are detached from the upper declivi- 
ties rush down the inclined beds afforded them by the nar- 
row passages, and descend in long trains, until, arrived at 
the ledge of their ravine, they pour out over the slope of 
debris. Most mountains are furrowed over their whole 
extent with vertical channels, down which the avalanches 
rush in the spring. These falling masses become actual 
tributaries of the streams which run below ; only, instead 
of flowing continuously as the rivulets of the cascades, they 
plunge down all at once, or in a succession of falls. 

On slopes where the inclination exceeds 50°, the snows 
not only descend through the passages hollowed out here 
and there on the mountain-sides, but they also slide en masse 
over the escarpments. Their gradual progress being more 
or less rapid, at first they accumulate in heaps when they 
meet with any obstacle in the less sloping portions of their 
track, until, becoming animated with a sufficient momentum, 
they at last break forth with a crash, and dash down into 
the depths below. The particular way in which each 
avalanche descends is, of course, varied according to the 
shape of the mountain. On perpendicular escarpments the 
snow on the upper terraces is slowly impelled by the pressure 
of th.e masses above it, and plunges over, straight down into 



AVALANCHES 61 

the abyss below. In spring and summer, when the white 
layers, softened by the heat, are falling away every hour 
from the lofty summits of the Alps, the mountain climber, 
standing on some adjacent headland, may contemplate with 
admiration these sudden cataracts dashing down into the 
gorges from the heights of the shining peaks. How many 
thousands of travellers, seated at their ease on the grassy 
banks of the Wengernalp, have witnessed with exclama- 
tions of pleasure the avalanches rolling down to the base 
of the silvery pyramid of the Jungfrau ! First the enormous 
bed of snow is seen to plunge forth like a cataract, and lose 
itself in the lower stages of the mountain ; whirlwinds of 
powdered snow, like a cloud of bright smoke, rise far and 
wide into the atmosphere ; and then, when the snow-cloud 
has passed away and the whole region has again assumed 
its solemn calm, the thunder of the avalanche is suddenly 
heard reverberating in deep echoes in the mountain gorges, 
one might fancy it was the voice of the mountain itself. 

All these downfalls of snow are phenomena in the economy 
of mountains, no less regular and normal than the flowing 
of the rainfall into rivers, and they form a part of the gen- 
eral system of the circulation of water in every basin. But 
in consequence of the superabundance of snow, its too rapid 
melting, or some other meteorological cause, certain excep- 
tional avalanches, like the inundations caused by river- 
floods, produce most disastrous effects by laying waste the 
cultivated grounds on the lower slopes, or even by swallow- 
ing up whole villages. Catastrophes of this kind and the 
falls of rocks are the most formidable occurrences in the 
vitality of mountains. 

The avalanches known under the name of poudreuses are 
those most dreaded by the inhabitants of the Alps, on ac- 



62 SWITZERLAND 

count not only of the ravages immediately arising from them, 
but also of the whirlwinds which frequently accompany 
them. Before the newly-fallen layers of flakes sufficiently 
adhere to the former snow, the mere tread of the chamois, 
the fall of a branch from some bush, or even a resounding 
echo, is sufficient to disturb the unstable balance of the 
upper sheet of snow. At first it slides slowly over the 
hardened mass beneath, until, reaching a point where the 
slope of the ground assists its progress, it rushes down with 
an increasingly rapid movement. Every moment it becomes 
augmented by fresh beds of snow, and by the debris^ stones, 
and brushwood, which it hurries along with it. It makes its 
way over the ledges and passages, tears down the trees, 
sweeps away the chalets which lie in its path, and, like the 
downfall of the side of a mountain, plunges into the valley, 
sometimes even reaching the opposite slope. All round 
the avalanche powdery snow rises in broad eddies ; the air, 
being compressed laterally by the sinking mass, roars right 
and left in actual whirlwinds, which shake the rocks and 
uproot the trees. Thousands of trunks may sometimes be 
seen thrown down by nothing but the wind of the avalanche, 
when the latter traces out for itself a wide path across 
whole forests, and, as it passes, sweeps away the hamlets 
in the valley. 

The avalanches de fond are generally less dangerous than 
those we have just spoken of, because they are formed at a 
more advanced season of the year, when the greater part of 
the superficial snow is melted, and the remainder of the 
mass is able to run through its regular passages. As their 
name indicates, these avalanches are composed of the whole 
thickness of the snow-field. Lubricated, as it were, by the 
rivulets of water which cross them and flow over them, the 



AVALANCHES 63 

beds of snow lose their adherence to the ground, and slide 
in one lump, like marine icebergs detaching themselves 
from a field of ice. Under the pressure of these moving 
masses, the snow below at last yields, and the avalanche, 
loaded with water and mud, earth and stones, rushes through 
the passages and over the rocks ; at last, finding its way 
into the valley, it dams up the stream with a kind of dike, 
which sometimes resists the weight of the water till the 
middle of summer, and the gray or even blackish mass be- 
comes so compact that it assumes the hardness of rock. It 
is, in fact, a glacier in miniature. 

Thickly-planted trunks of trees are the best protection 
against avalanches of every kind. In the first place, the 
snow which has fallen in the wood itself cannot very well 
shift its place ; and then, when the masses descending from 
the slopes above dash against the trees, they are unable to 
break through so strong a barrier. After having over- 
turned some few of the first trees, their progress is arrested, 
and the intermingled heaps constitute a fresh obstacle for 
future avalanches. Small shrubs, such as rhododendrons, 
or even heaths and meadow grass, are very often sufficient 
to prevent the slipping of the snow, and where people are 
imprudent enough to cut them on the mountain slopes, they 
run the risk of clearing the way for this formidable scourge. 
The danger is still more imminent if a screen of trees is 
cut down in one of the protecting forests. The task is 
then begun for the avalanche, which soon undertakes to 
complete the rest of the labour by tearing up all that still 
remains of the former woody rampart. A mountain which 
stands to the south of the Pyrenean village of Aragnouet, 
in the lofty valley of the Neste, having been partially cleared 
of trees, a tremendous avalanche fell down, in 1846, from 



64 SWITZERLAND 

the top of a plateau, and in its fall swept away more than 
15,000 fir-trees. 

The protecting woods of Switzerland and the Tyrol 
used to be defended by the national bann^ and, as it were, 
" tabooed." They were, and still are, called the Bann^ 
walder. In the valley of Andermatt, at the northern foot 
of the St. Gothard, the penalty of death was once adjudged 
on any man found guilty of having made an attempt on 
the life of one of the trees which shielded the inhabitations. 
Added to this, a sort of mystic curse was thought to hang 
over this impious action, and it was told with horror how 
drops of blood flowed when the smallest branch was broken 
off. It was true enough that the destruction of each tree 
might perhaps be expiated by the death of a man. 

The inhabitants of some villages which are threatened 
with avalanches endeavour to find a substitute for trees in 
long stakes or piles driven into the ground to resemble fir- 
trees. This is what they call clouer V avalanche (nailing up 
the avalanche). At the same time, they hew steps at inter- 
vals, almost like a staircase, so that the snow falling from 
the clIfFs may be arrested in its course or partially broken 
up. In some localities, too, they construct lateral walls on 
purpose to contain the flow of the avalanche, as if it were 
a banked-up river ; and if, after all these precautions, the 
houses are still threatened, they furnish them, like the piles 
of a bridge, with spurs or buttresses, made of stone or 
hardened snow, which, by sprinkling, is gradually changed 
into ice. 



THE BERGSTURZ 

WILLIAM POLE 

THE event called in German Switzerland a Berg- 
sturz, where a portion of a steep mountain-side 
precipitates itself down, sometimes through thou- 
sands of feet, into a plain or valley below is naturally to be 
looked for in countries where deep valleys with precipitous 
sides have been excavated in rocky material. In travelling 
through Swiss valleys, we find abundant evidence of falls 
from the sides that have taken place at former times, and 
such falls are known to continue in the present day. It is 
however but seldom that they are of sufficient magnitude 
to do mischief and become historical. The greatest on 
record, whether estimated by its actual dimensions, or by 
the extent of the damage it caused, was that of Goldau, 
September 2, 1806. Here an enormous mass forming the 
upper portion of the Rossberg, a high mountain north of 
the Rigi, suddenly gave way and dashed into the fertile and 
populous valley below, destroying several villages, half 
filling up a lake, and entombing 457 human beings in a 
horrible grave. 

A calamity of the same nature occurred in the Canton 
of Glarus in 1 88 1. At Schwanden about three miles above 
Glarus, the Linth is joined by a tributary called the Seruf. 
The valley that brings this down rises sharply from the 
junction and bends to the southward, finally losing it- 
self against the immense mountain-ridge that forms the 



66 SWITZERLAND 

northern wall of the great Romansch Valley of the Vorder 
Rhein, and separates the Glarus district from the Canton of 
the Grisons. There is a good carriage road up the Seruf- 
thal, passing through the villages of Engi, Matt and 
Schwandi, and terminating, about nine miles from the 
Linth, at the chief place, Elm, the site of the catastrophe. 
Elm lies at a height of 3,230 feet above the sea. In its 
remote position it is little visited by pleasure tourists, but 
it is known to climbers as the meeting point of several 
high passes. One of these has a historic celebrity, being 
the scene of the disastrous retreat of Suwarrow before the 
victorious French in 1799. 

Elm is closely overshadowed by the great mountain wall 
which towers to the height of 6,000 feet above it, in an 
unbroken ridge, covered in many parts with glaciers, and 
with that peculiar formation of half-consolidated snow in 
German called Firn. The catastrophe originated in a spur 
of this wall, called the Tschingelberg, and lying about three 
quarters of a mile to the south-east of the village. The 
Tschingelberg was of great interest to Elm on account of 
the important slate quarries that had been formed therein. 
Close under the Tschingelberg is a small side valley called 
the Unterthal, very narrow, and bounded on the opposite 
side by a hill called the Diineberg. The Tschingelberg, 
above the quarries, although largely covered with pine 
forests, and presenting no more dangerous appearance than 
is customary with steep rocks generally, it had long been 
known to be in a somewhat loose condition, and falls of 
stones from it occasionally occurred. The hot and dry 
summer of 1881 was succeeded by heavy rains which, 
penetrating into the cracks and fissures, made matters 
worse, and the dislodgments became more frequent. Some 




< 

o 




THE BERGSTURZ 67 

alarm was created and, on September 9th, an examination 
was made by competent persons deputed for the purpose by 
the Commune. The result was a recommendation that 
some protective measures be undertaken, but no immediate 
danger was apprehended. 

During Sunday, the iith, the rain fell in torrents, and in 
the afternoon the falls of stones increased so much as to 
attract anxious attention upwards to the hill. A little after 
5 p. M. some observers saw the fir-trees, on a patch of 
ground, high up above the quarries, begin to move and to 
bend "like stalks of corn before the sickle of the reaper." 
It was now clear that some greater fall was imminent, and 
shortly afterwards, about 5:30, a large mass of rock fell 
with a fearful crash into the Unterthal, shattering several 
buildings in its way. Then arose a great cry, exhortations 
to fly and to remove household goods being heard in all 
directions. Able and active men heroically rushed to re- 
lieve those who were in danger; but, before anything could 
be done, help was unavailing. 

A quarter of an hour after the first fall, occurred a 
second, which completed the destruction of the Unterthal, 
and then immediately followed the third — and most fright- 
ful of all. The whole side of the mountain gave way, and 
dashed into the valley below, accompanied by a roar as of 
a thousand thunders, and enveloping the whole neighbour- 
hood in a thick opaque cloud of dust, producing a darkness 
deeper than the blackest night. 

When towards 7 p. m. the atmosphere had somewhat 
cleared, the fearful devastation became visible. Provi- 
dentially the greater part of the village of Elm had escaped, 
but everything between that and the Unterthal, fields, 
crops, houses, and everything in them, had disappeared, 



68 SWITZERLAND 

buried under thousands of tons of shattered rock and stone. 
As the night closed in, blank despair spread around, for it 
was evident that there was no hope of rescue. This was 
confirmed in the morning when offers of help poured in 
from all the neighbourhood. A few horribly mutilated 
corpses were found in some ruined buildings visible at the 
exterior of the mass, but this was all. 

It may be well now to give some idea by actual figures 
of the magnitude of the Bergsturz. The greatest height of 
the fall, L e.^ the height from the valley to the top of the 
fracture, was about 2,000 feet. The quantity of material 
that fell is estimated at about 360,000,000 cubic feet, or 
say 20,000,000 tons, and it is believed that half this came 
from the upper part of the hill. When it is considered 
that the velocity due to a fall of 2,000 feet is about 350 
feet> a second, some idea may be formed of the tremendous 
amount of mechanical force expended on the shock. 

The effect of this force was manifested in various ways. 
First by the smashing up of the debris. There are, no 
doubt, some very large pieces lying about ; one of the 
biggest measuring about fifty feet by forty feet by twenty- 
five feet — or 50,000 cubit feet. But the great mass is 
broken up into comparatively small fragments, and a large 
proportion was pulverized into fine dust, which, as in erup- 
tions of Vesuvius, spread over the neighbourhood for miles 
around. Then, the behaviour of the falling material gave 
singular evidence of the force inherent in it. A large por- 
tion crossed the Unterthal (a horizontal distance from its 
original site of about half a mile), struck the opposite hill 
of the Diineberg, and mounted up it to a height of some 
350 feet, at the same time rushing up the rising slope of 
the valley to the eastward. But the great mass fell in the 



THE BERGSTURZ 69 

open valley and followed the natural fall towards Elm, roll- 
ing with prodigious impetus down the slope, and at the 
same time spreading out laterally. It covered a surface of 
ground equal to about one square kilometre, and lay thereon 
in some places as much as 100 feet deep. The rocky 
stream extended westwards to a distance of a mile and a 
quarter from its origin, reaching and carrying away a part 
of the main road leading to Elm. It was here that some of 
the valuable lives and property were destroyed ; for as the 
village had been increasing in population and wealth, a 
new suburb of good houses had been built along this road, 
and they were all either buried in the mass or upset and 
crushed to pieces by the shock. Some isolated ruins of 
them were visible near the edge of the debris when I vis- 
ited the spot, smashed-up joinery, household utensils, and 
furniture lying scattered about among the rocks and mud. 
It was here that the human remains were principally found. 

The feature that most impressed me was the great simi- 
larity of the behaviour of the mass to that of a stream of 
mud or other semi-fluid substances, and it required some 
mental effort to convince oneself that the whole was 
formed of angular fragments. This again shows the tre- 
mendous vis viva of the great mass, which, notwithstanding 
the immense fractional resistance of its elementary com- 
ponents, caused it to follow to a certain extent the laws of 
fluid motion. 

I remember, having frequently had occasion to pass over 
the field of the Goldau Bergsturz, remarking also there 
evidences of enormous force, but manifested in a different 
way ; the rock of the Rossberg, a hard conglomerate, offered 
much more resistance to breaking up, and consequently the 
force was expended more in tossing the huge fragments 



70 SWITZERLAND 

about. When one looks at the colossal blocks, almost 
mountains in themselves, which lie scattered over the wide 
valley, one can hardly believe they have been projected 
from the rift in the hillside miles away. 

One remarkable feature of these mountain falls is the 
great disturbance of the air caused by the swift motion 
through it of such an immense bulk of material. In this 
instance, it was remarked by some near observers who had 
the good fortune to escape, that immediately after the giv- 
ing way of the great mass, but before it reached the lower 
ground, a tremendous blast of wind drove down the valley. 
It completely carried away the iron bridge, about twelve 
tons' weight, over the branch road to Unterthal, and de- 
posited it, crumpled to pieces, at some distance. It is 
known also that some persons who had collected on this 
spot (thinking themselves safe such a way off) were 
whirled into the air by the hurricane and killed. Among 
these was a local judge, proprietor of the principal inn, and 
a man much esteemed in all the country round. 

It is interesting in a scientific point of view to inquire if 
any cause of a geological nature can be assigned for the 
rupture of the mountain. In the Goldau case a distinct 
geological origin could be traced for the disaster, namely 
the superposition of stony beds on inclined strata impervious 
to water, which under certain conditions formed a slippery 
surface on which the upper beds could slide down. This 
kind of stratification is very visible in many parts of the 
neighbouring hills, particularly on the Rigi, where slips 
are not unfrequent. One of some magnitude that occurred 
two years ago is visible from the Kaltbad Railway Station. 
I cannot learn, however, that any similar cause was present 
in the Elm case. The rock is marked in Studer and 



THE BERGSTURZ 71 

Escher*s geological map as Terrain num mull'itique^ belonging 
to the tertiary Eocene formation ; and although it consisted 
of a mixture of two constituents, limestone and slate, these 
do not appear to have lain in any such relative positions as 
to favour the fall. It is more probable that the cause was 
the very simple and ordinary one which produces falls in 
general, namely a loose, fissured state of the rock generally, 
which was aggravated by the plentiful flow of water through 
its crevices, and the consequent further erosion of the mass, 
till it lost the coherence necessary to maintain it in its 
highly inclined position. 



MOUNTAINEERING 

FRANCIS CONNELL 

I AM sure you all know him well. You may have seen 
him any fine day outside any of the hotels in the more 
mountainous parts of Switzerland or the Tyrol. But 
he is in his glory at Zermatt. There he sits where great 
American deck-chairs have supplanted the humble and 
somewhat uneven stones of the old wall to serve him in the 
office of a throne. His face is red and inflamed and sticky ; 
his hands are torn and dirty, as are his clothes, which tend 
to have a reddish tinge and to disclose patches of a cloth 
totally different in colour and material from the rest of his 
garments should he chance to rise and turn his back upon 
you. His shirt is flannel and dirty ; his hat is felt and 
dirty ; his boots are large and have often been clouted by 
the excellent cobbler down the village. But these are hon- 
ourable scars. Portions of that reddish raiment are flapping 
in the wind on every rock peak from Monte Viso to the 
Terglou -, the dirt encrusted in his nails was garnered on 
the eastern face of the Dom ; the big scar at the back of his 
head was caused by an over-impetuous friend, a jerk of the 
rope, and a big stone on the rotten arete of the Velan two 
summers ago, and his raw-beef face is the result, not of a 
skin disease, but of a long day on the Grenz Glacier. 

There he sits, the mules laden with heavy German gen- 
tlemen in ulsters, bound for the Schwarz See, going up the 
street, the sun blazing down upon the dust among the little 



I 




u 

< 

Q 



MOUNTAINEERING 73 

cobbly stones, which are every now and then sprinkled by 
a small boy with a watering-pot, with Jost smiling benignly 
in the shadow of the hotel-door, with a fountain, which 
never plays, behind him, the Matterhorn on his left, the 
murmurous complaint of the Visp torrent in his ears, and 
all around him a pervading sense of mule and heat and 
tourist — there he sits, as you have often seen him, talking, 
talking from breakfast until the RifFel Alp lights go out, 
with intervals for such refreshment as is provided by table 
(Thote and the hier-halle at the Mont Cervin. If you like to 
lie late, as is my habit after a hard day, you may open your 
window and get back into bed again, and see the Matter- 
horn and the sun, and hear the earliest chirp of half- 
awakened guides discussing with him ; and as you shut the 
Venetian shutters at night, some stray revellers will still be 
at it. The talk flows always in one channel ; it is con- 
ducted in such broken German-Swiss as he can master, and 
such broken English as the guide has learnt at the winter 
night school. In the morning, when it consists of descrip- 
tions of the doings of the previous day, the terrible state of 
the snow, the absurdly rotten state of the mountain and the 
misdeeds of other parties, the men talk confidently with 
loud voices and more than a touch of swagger, while all 
around the voices of the young lady admirers are hushed and 
the fierce light of achievement beats upon the heroes ; to- 
wards the late afternoon it becomes more subdued, it is 
carried on in whispers and surrounded with an air of 
mystery. Dirty fingers follow suggested routes on the 
pinkish maps spread on the iron tables, while the guides, 
who regard maps as English missionaries look on heathen- 
fetish ceremonies, punctuate the proceedings with much 
spitting and many cautious remarks (" One couldn't can 



74 SWITZERLAND 

tell " IS a favourite idiom) accompanied with an appearance 
of impossible wisdom. 

Long ago every mountain of respectable height in the 
whole range of the Alps had found its conqueror. The 
Grepon, only a few years ago reputed to be the most diffi- 
cult climb in the Alps, is an easy day for a lady. The 
Drus, which only yielded to a siege of many summers, are 
strewn from summit to base with sandwich papers and 
empty sardine tins, and on the top of the Matterhorn, it is 
rumoured, a large and familiar notice board warns the hardy 
mountaineer that this hill is dangerous for cyclists. From 
the day when Mr. Wills, accompanied by old Christian 
Aimer, Ulrich Lauener, Peter Bohren, two Chamouni 
guides, a large iron flag-stafF and a small fir-tree, ascended 
the Wetterhorn, introduced the Chamouni men to the 
ice-axe, and incidentally introduced the sport to the public 
at large, the pioneers, chiefly Englishmen, set about their 
work of robbing us of the mystery of the mountains, and 
left but little work for the civil engineer to do in this direc- 
tion. Christian Aimer died in 1898, having celebrated his 
golden wedding by an ascent of the same mountain j and 
Mr. Justice Wills's pedestrian feats are the wonder of the 
High Sheriffs of the Eastern Countries. What a grudge 
the modern climber must ever bear to these, " qui ante nos 
in mundo fuereT They were bold in the fearless old 
fashion, and their limbs are as memories yet ; and the regret 
to which they move us is as piquant as it is little. No new 
mountains remain to be ascended for the first time, and no 
new routes are to be made which do not imply a risk from 
falling stones or ice altogether disproportionate to the in- 
terest in the attempt. The pioneers endured real hardship ; 
there were scarcely any shelter^huts and the absence of 



MOUNTAINEERING 75 

paths must have made the early hours of each expedition 
laborious to an extent hardly to be realized by any one who 
has not tried tracking over boulders and through forest by 
the light of a candle carried by a sleepy guide. Tinned 
meats were hardly discovered ; the inns were very poor and 
bad ; and, to crown all, the lack of maps and the ignorance 
of the country often brought a bivouac high up on the 
mountains, without shelter or food, to close a successful 
day with a night of torment. It is true that, if these de- 
lights tempt you, you can still experience even greater dis- 
comfort on the slopes of Aconcagua or Ushba, on the 
Hispar Pass, or among the forests of the Selkirks ; but this 
means money and time ; or, if you have neither, you can 
climb without guides and sleep in tents, an arrangement 
which secures the maximum of risk with the minimum of 
enjoyment. For the rest of us nothing remains but a 
Tom Swayer-like existence, brightened by the fact that 
there is an inn an hour below our bivouac, hay beds tem- 
pered by air-cushions, and tough mutton accompanied by 
pate de foie gras. 

All these things are against us ; and yet I will dare to 
say that, for myself, and for all who, through painful and 
devious ways, have come to know the mountains, their 
grimness, their joy, no scrap of romance, or love, or rever- 
ence has fallen from them. Still remains the intense feel- 
ing of delight in your own strength — just as intense in the 
weak as in the strong — which those only can know who 
have crawled along a ridge so slender that it seems only to 
remain in place because it cannot make up its mind on 
which side to fall, on days when nature seems to take a 
malign delight in thwarting the climber, and when you 
must cling tight to disintegrating stones to prevent yourself 



76 SWITZERLAND 

going off with the wind into a neighbouring valley ; days 
when you find at six in the evening that the old route ofF 
the glacier has been spoiled by the collapse of an ice-bridge, 
and you must wearily cut your way up the icefall again, 
hoping against hope that you may be on the path before 
dark ; the wild excitement on a broken arete^ perhaps not 
often accomplished before, as you turn or climb over tower 
after tower and see a fresh succession between you and the 
summit, each apparently toppling to its fall, and asking 
nothing better than to take you with it; the very unpleasant 
feeling down your spine as you watch the leading man grap- 
pling with the tower immediately before you, raising himself 
with wondrous skill foot by foot, and hear the scratching 
and shifting of his bootnails on the rock as he gains each 
fearful inch. It is perfectly true that the strength in which 
you exult so much is that of the two large peasants, who, 
with excitable cries in patois^ are communicating to each 
other their very uncomplimentary opinion of the rocks and 
of your own powers as a climber, and preparing to pull you, 
as a sack of oats, with a painful sense of construction in 
the stomach, up the rocks which the leader has surmounted, 
in spite of your entreaties to be allowed to do it without 
help. " Herr Gesu^'* said my master on the little Dru, 
" Sie sagen immer ' Ich komme gle'ich^ und Sie kommen nicht. 
Jeszt mussen Sie kommen^'' and with a vigorous haul I ac- 
complish ten feet of ascent. But when you reach green 
grass again all the moral support will have been forgotten 
in the flush of victory, and by the time the Bouvier flows, 
you will be a hero in your own eyes, in those of your female 
relatives, and on the tongues of those expert flatterers who 
despised you so heartily a few hours ago. 

Their point of view is a singularly complex one ; the or- 



MOUNTAINEERING 77 

dinary guide is as brave as a Boer, and his bravery has 
many of the same peculiarities. He has very little sense of 
sport ; he is ever conscious of the desperate danger of his 
calling, and, while he is willing and anxious to meet any 
risk which comes in the necessary course of events, he has 
the greatest contempt for the man who seeks the bright eyes 
of dangers for their own sake. He is a bit of a fatalist. 
" See," said one, as we brought down the bodies of a party 
who had died m a place as simple as Piccadilly, " death can 
come as easily on a light mountain as a difficult one." And 
again, when the French guides bungled at their task : 
" Those Arolla men know nothing of accidents ; for me, 
when a man is once dead, I will carry him as soon as a 
sheep," and so saying he put one of the things on his head 
and strode down into the valley to where the mules waited 
for their burden. 

A guide of experience will tell you that there are only 
three dangers in mountaineering : falling stones, sudden bad 
weather and the tourist. And of these three he regards the 
last with the most suspicion, and with good reason. Ordi- 
nary foresight can immensely reduce the risk of being 
caught in a storm ; you can avoid falling stones by the 
simple process of not going where they fall ; but nothing 
can guard against the eccentricities of the brilliant climber. 
The novice is a source of danger because he goes slowly, 
tires the party out, and because he upsets stones on to 
the heads of those below ; but he is not more likely 
to slip than the piece of luggage which he represents in his 
guides' mind, and, if he did, he would be held instantly, so 
closely is he watched. But the man with enough expe- 
rience to have ideas of his own on difficulties and enough 
technical skill to master them unaided, is a constant anx- 



78 SWITZERLAND 

iety. He will move when he ought to stay quiet ; he insists 
on risky experiments j he resents the pressure of the rope 
when it is necessary for the safety of the whole party ; he 
refuses help in times of stress. This, above all, is a state 
of mind incomprehensible to the guide, who always takes a 
pull if he wants it from his leader, and sometimes from an 
amateur. 

I am always tempted to dwell at length upon the charac- 
teristics of the guide, because they seem to me to be very 
opposite to those usually attributed to him. When you 
first see him, a fine big man, rough in manner but with 
much charm and savoir-faire ; when you first adventure 
yourself with him on such perilous passages as the A-ler de 
Glace from the Montanvert to the Chapeau, or the desper- 
ate glories of the Breithorn ; when, sick and weary from 
your first real expedition, he coaxes you to eat and half car- 
ries you into the valley ; when your jokes are greeted with 
uproarious applause ; when you are told you go like a 
chamois and will soon equal the feats of Herr Whymper or 
Herr " Momery," you begin to think him " a thin red 'ero " 
with a fine eye for a man and a nice discernment of charac- 
ter. And when your acquaintance progresses and you find 
your comrade is saying the same thing to your neighbour at 
table d'hote^ who is, as you know, a shirker and a hum- 
bug ; when Johann or Peter or Heinrich snores in a horri- 
ble fashion in the hut and likes to carry the brandy flask 
and turns out a shrewd fellow at a bargain ; above all, when, 
like a good tutor, he begins to pay you the greatest compli- 
ment a guide can pay and ceases to compliment at all, you 
begin to wonder whether he is not a bit of a blackguard. 
In truth, he is neither 'ero nor blackguard, but a married 
man in rough Saas homespun, woven by Mrs. Johann, most 



MOUNTAINEERING 79 

remarkable like any other peasant. He is of a saving turn 
of mind, for he has several c^hildren already and one more 
every year. He has a sheep or two, a cow or two, and a 
floor with several rooms in the big wooden house down by 
the bridge on the path to Findelen, which he built in com- 
pany with his brothers and brothers-in-law in the winter 
with his own hands, having some mysterious rights to the 
land from his position in the Gemeinde and buying the 
materials out of his first two seasons' savings as a fashiona- 
ble guide. He is, or ought to be, insured in the Zurcher 
Versicherungs Verein, with the assistance of the Swiss Al- 
pine Club for the sum of 4,000 francs. His chief delight 
is to hang large decorated cow-bells round the necks of his 
best cows, and, if you take him to Chamouni, he will buy 
them there, and then carry them with infinite labour over 
passes and peaks until he reaches Swiss territory again, so 
that if you chance to run down to Orsieres you go accom- 
panied by music from his knapsack, like the fine lady of 
Banbury Cross. His anxiety is to escape military service 
until September is half gone, and the climbing season with 
it ; and then, with the first sign of real bad weather, he 
goes quietly down to Sion, with the gen cTarme^ who has been 
awaiting his convenience for many days in the trtnk-halle^ 
surrenders to the authorities, and does his fortnight's prison, 
hoping, if he is very lucky indeed, that there may be fine 
weather and a stray tourist in October when he comes home 
again. He is extraordinarily peaceful by disposition, even 
in his cups, and, on the whole, extraordinarily sober; for 
though there is said to be a great deal of drinking in Zer- 
matt, in the winter, and there certainly is among Ober- 
landers at all times, yet I have in the course of about 200 
expeditions, great and small, only once been out with a 



8o SWITZERLAND 

guide who was really drunk, and he, though he bore a Ger- 
man name, came from an Italian valley. 

Mountains are no more insensible than the Master him- 
self of the beauty of the view from the lagoon of the " wil- 
derness of misty precipices fading far back into the recesses 
of Cadore,'* but to write of it needs the hand of the Master 
himself and " it needs heaven-sent moments for the skill." 
Mountains seem so elusive, their colours, even their shapes, 
so evanescent, that the memory retains rather an impression 
than a photograph ; and the efforts of the greatest to trans- 
fer the results to canvas or to paper have alike failed. 
Hence, perhaps, a somewhat boisterous merriment ; a lack 
of form in writings which have come into being as the re- 
sult rather of high spirits than of a melancholy delight in 
words ; and a shutting of the door upon those aesthetic emo- 
tions, which we have not felt ourselves worthy to unbar. 
Yet because we have lost the first fine careless rapture of 
the young ladies' school, who gaze for the first time upon 
the Mer de Glace, we must not be supposed to be blind or 
soulless. Like most English people we are a diffident folk 
and consider any emotion vulgar which is shared by any 
one else. 

But we have our treasures of the past though we fear to 
show them. Who that has ever seen them can forget the 
San Martino giants — huge yet unsubstantial — glimmering at 
sunrise, like ghosts, over woods as dark and meadows as 
fresh as those can only be which slope towards Italy ; the 
sudden uprising of the western world, peak after peak, spear- 
head after spearhead, like the waves of the sea in tumultuous 
order, terrible as an army with banners, as your head reaches 
at length the ridge before you, and instead of the snow slope 
and the shadow which you have seen so long, you gaze over 



MOUNTAINEERING 81 

the watershed of the Western Pennines; the kingdoms of 
the earth and the fuhiess thereof spread out before you ; 
green and hot to the Jura, deep and cool to the Little 
St. Bernard, from Mont Blanc himself; the great circle of 
the wall which keeps in Italy seen from the Engadine 
Mountains in a half-moon with Monte Rosa at the end 
literally " hanging there " over in the haze ; above all, per- 
haps, the limitless space of the same plane from the Central 
Pennines, fading away to a darker line, perhaps with a high 
light of silver, which is the Apennines, while in the middle 
distance a tremulous grey cloud is Maggiore, and you can 
almost believe the fancy which tells you that the brighter 
spot is Milan, sparkling like a grain of salt. 

To such a day succeeds the incomparable pomp of eve, 
and when the sun has passed down into the tangles of the 
French foothills, and the peaks, each a separate sun now he 
is gone, have burnt out in turn, one by one, through every 
variety of colour, night, marching slowly but visibly from a 
hundred miles away, hushes the streams and hangs her own 
jewels in the heavens. You have at once a darkness and a 
brilliancy which you have learned to associate only with the 
tropics. The shadows are blacker for you, and the stars 
closer for the plain-dwellers, and night, *' doth like an 
iEthiop bride appear.'* Very reluctantly you knock out 
your last pipe and creep into your blanket, leaving the moon 
full over the Ruitor. 

But the dark days have their triumphs, too, when a cloud 
is snatched away for an instant as a garment and you see 
the next tower on the ridge, fantastic, horrible ; or the 
Matterhorn, or the Dru, suddenly reveals itself from base 
to summit, as detached from earth to heaven, majestic in 
the mist. 



THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE 
MATTERHORN 

EDWARD WHYMPER 

WE started from Zermatt on the nth of July 
at 5:30 A. M. on a brilliant and perfectly 
cloudless morning. We were eight in num- 
ber — Croz, old Peter and his two sons, Lord F. Douglas, 
Hadow, Hudson, and I. To ensure steady motion, one 
tourist and one native walked together. 

On the first day we did not intend to ascend to any great 
height, and we mounted accordingly very leisurely ; picked 
up the things that vi^ere left in the chapel at the Schwarz 
See at 8:30 and proceeded thence along the ridge connecting 
the Hornli with the Matterhorn. At 11:30 we arrived 
at the base of the actual peak ; then quitted the ridge, 
and clambered round some ledges, on to the eastern face. 
We were now fairly upon the mountain, and were aston- 
ished to find that places which from the RifFel, or even from 
the Furggengletscher, looked entirely impracticable, were 
so easy that we could run about. 

Before noon we had found a good position for the tent at 
a height of 11,000 feet. Croz and young Peter went on to 
see what was above, in order to save time on the following 
morning. We others made a solid platform for the tent in 
a well-protected spot, and then watched eagerly for the re- 
turn of the men. Their report was ; " Nothing but what 




2 

O 

Pi 
w 

H 

< 

X 
H 



ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN 83 

was good ; not a single difficulty ! We could have gone to 
the summit and returned to-day easily ! " 

We passed the remaining hours of daylight — some bask- 
ing in the sunshine, some sketching and collecting; and 
when the sun went down, giving, as it departed, a glorious 
promise for the morrow, we returned to the tent to arrange 
for the night. 

We assembled before dawn on the 14th, and started 
directly it was light enough to move. We followed the 
route of the previous day, and in a few minutes turned the 
rib which had intercepted the view of the eastern face from 
our tent platform. The whole of this great slope was now 
revealed, rising for 3,000 feet like a huge natural staircase. 
Some parts were more and others less easy ; but we were not 
once brought to a halt by any serious impediment, for when 
an obstruction was met in front, it could always be turned 
to the right or left. For the greater part of the way, there 
was indeed no occasion for the rope ; and sometimes Hud- 
son led, sometimes myself. At 6:20, we had attained a 
height of 12,000 feet and halted for half an hour ; we then 
continued the ascent without a break until 9:55, when we 
stopped for fifty minutes, at a height of 14,000 feet. Twice 
we struck the north-east ridge, and followed it for some little 
distance — to no advantage for it was usually more rotten 
and steep, and always more diflicult than the face. Still, 
we kept near to it lest stones perchance might fall. 

We had now arrived at the foot of that part which, from 
the Riffelberg, or from Zermatt, seems perpendicular or 
overhanging, and could no longer continue upon the eastern 
side. For a little distance we ascended by snow upon the 
ridge descending towards Zermatt, and then, by common 
consent, turned over to the right, or the northern side. 



84 SWITZERLAND 

Before doing so we made a change in the order of ascent, 
Croz went first, I followed, Rudson came third ; Hadow 
and old Peter were last. " Now," said Croz as he led off, 
" now for something altogether different." The work be- 
came difficult and required caution. In some places, there 
was little to hold, and it was desirable that those should be 
in front who were least likely to slip. The general slope 
of the mountain at this part was less than 60°, and snow 
had accumulated in, and had filled up the interstices of the 
rock-face, leaving only occasional fragments projecting here 
and there. These were at times covered with a thin film 
of ice, produced by the melting and refreezing of the snow. 
It was a place over which any fair mountaineer might pass 
in safety. 

This solitary difficult part was of no great extent. We 
bore away over it at first, nearly horizontally, for a distance 
of about 400 feet ; then ascended directly towards the sum- 
mit for about sixty feet ; and then doubled back to the 
ridge which descends towards Zermatt. A long stride 
round a rather awkward corner brought us to snow once 
more. The last doubt vanished ! The Matterhorn was 
ours ! Nothing but 200 feet of easy snow remained to be 
surmounted. The slope eased off: at length we could be 
detached, and Croz and I, dashing away, ran a neck and 
neck race which ended in a dead heat. At i : 40 p. m., the 
world was at our feet, and the Matterhorn was conquered. 

T'he others had arrived, so we went back to the northern 
end of the ridge. Croz now took the tent-pole, and planted 
it in the highest snow. " Yes," we said, " there is the 
flag-staff but where is the flag ? " " Here it is," he an- 
swered, pulling off his blouse and fixing it to the stick. It 
made a poor flag, and there was no wind to float it out, yet 



ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN 85 

it was seen all around. They saw it at Zermatt — at the 
RifFel — in the Val Tournanche. 

We returned to the southern end of the ridge to build a 
cairn, and then paid homage to the view. The day was 
one of those superlatively calm and clear ones which usu- 
ally precede clear weather. The atmosphere was perfectly 
still, and free from all clouds or vapours. Mountains fifty 
— nay a hundred — miles off looked sharp and near. All 
their details — ridge and crag, snow and glacier — stood out 
with faultless definition. All were revealed — not one of 
the principal peaks of the Alps was hidden. I see them 
clearly now — the great inner circle of giants, backed by the 
ranges, chains and massifs. First came the Dent Blanche, 
heavy and grand ; the Gabelhorn and pointed Rothhorn ; 
and then the peerless Weisshorn ; the towering Mischabel- 
horner, flanked by the Allaleinhorn, Strahlhorn, and Rimp- 
fischhorn ; then Monte Rosa — with the many Spitzes — the 
Lyskamm and the Breithorn. Behind was the Bernese 
Oberland governed by the Finsteraarhorn, and then the 
Simplon and St. Gothard groups ; the Disgrazia and the Or- 
teler. Towards the south, we looked down to Chivasso 
on the plain of Piedmont, and far beyond. The Viso — one 
hundred miles away — seemed close upon us ; the Maritime 
Alps — one hundred and thirty miles distant — were free 
from haze. Then came my first love — the Pelvoux ; the 
Ecrins and the Meije ; the clusters of the Graians ; and 
lastly, in the west, gorgeous in the full sunlight, rose the 
monarch of all — Mont Blanc. Ten thousand feet beneath 
us were the green fields of Zermatt, dotted with chalets^ 
from which blue smoke rose lazily. Eight thousand feet 
below, on the other side, were the pastures of Breil. There 
were black and gloomy forests, bright and cheerful meadows; 



86 SWITZERLAND 

bounding waterfalls and tranquil lakes ; fertile lands and 
savage wastes ; sunny plains and frigid plateaux. There 
were the most rugged forms, and the most graceful outlines 
— bold perpendicular cliffs, and gentle undulating slopes j 
rocky mountains and snowy mountains, sombre and solemn, 
or glittering and white, with walls — turrets — pinnacles — 
domes — cones — and spires ! There was every combination 
that the world can give, and every contrast that the heart 
could desire. 

We remained on the summit for one hour. It passed 
away too quickly, and we began to prepare for the descent. 

Hudson and I again consulted as to the best and safest 
arrangement of the party. We agreed that it would be 
best for Croz to go first, and Hadow second ; Hudson, who 
was almost equal to a guide in sureness of foot, wished to 
be third ; Lord F. Douglas was placed next, and old Peter, 
the strongest of the remainder, after him. The party was 
being arranged in the above order whilst I was sketching 
the summit, and they had finished, and were waiting for me 
to be tied in line, when some one remembered that our 
names had not been left in a bottle. They requested me 
to write them down, and moved ofF while it was being done. 

A few minutes afterwards I tied myself to young Peter, 
ran down after the others, and caught them just as they 
were commencing the descent of the difficult part. Great 
care was being taken. Only one man was moving at a 
time ; when he was firmly planted the next advanced, and 
so on. For some little distance, we two followed the 
others, detached from them, and should have continued so 
had not Lord F. Douglas asked me, about 3 p. m., to tie on 
to old Peter, as he feared, he said, that Taugwalder would 
not be able to hold his ground, if a slip occurred. 



ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN 87 

A few minutes later, a sharp-eyed lad ran into the Monte 
Rosa hotel saying that he had seen an avalanche fall from 
the summit of the Matterhorn on to the Matterhornglet- 
scher. The boy was reproved for telling idle stories : he 
was right, nevertheless, and this is what he saw. 

Michel Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to give 
Mr. Hadow greater security, was absolutely taking hold of 
his legs, and putting his feet one by one, into their proper 
positions. As far as I know, no one was actually descend- 
ing. I cannot speak with certainty, because the two lead- 
ing men were partially hidden from my sight by an interven- 
ing mass of rock, but it is my belief, from the movements 
of their shoulders, that Croz, having done as I have said, 
was in the act of turning round to go down a step or two 
himself J at this moment Mr. Hadow slipped, fell against 
him, and knocked him over. I heard one startled exclama- 
tion from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying down- 
wards; in another moment Hudson was dragged from his 
steps, and Lord F. Douglas immediately after him. All 
this was the work of a moment. Immediately we heard 
Croz*s exclamation, old Peter and I planted ourselves as 
firmly as the rocks would permit j the rope was taut be- 
tween us, and the jerk came on us both as one man. We 
held, but the rope broke midway between Taugwalder and 
Lord F. Douglas. For a few seconds, we saw our unfor- 
tunate companions sliding downwards on their backs, and 
spreading out their hands, endeavouring to save themselves. 
They passed from our sight uninjured, disappeared one by 
one, and fell from precipice to precipice on to the Matter- 
horngletscher below, a distance of nearly 4,000 feet in height. 
From the moment the rope broke, it was impossible to help 
them. 



88 SWITZERLAND 

So perished our comrades ! For the space of half-an- 
hour we remained on the spot without moving a single step. 
The two men, paralyzed by terror, cried like infants, and 
trembled in such a manner as to threaten us with the fate 
of the others. At last old Peter summoned up courage, 
and changed his position to a rock to which he could fix 
the rope ; the young man thus descended, and we all stood 
together. 

For more than two hours afterwards, I thought almost 
every moment that the next would be my last ; for the 
Taugwalders, utterly unnerved, were not only incapable of 
giving assistance, but were in such a state that a slip might 
have been expected of them at any moment. After a 
time, we were able to do what should have been done at 
first, and fixed rope to firm rocks, in addition to being tied 
together. These ropes were cut from time to time and left 
behind. Even with their assurance the men were some- 
times afraid to proceed, and several times old Peter turned 
with ashy face and faltering limbs, and said with terrible 
emphasis, " 1 cannot ! " 

About 6 p. M., we arrived at the snow upon the ridge 
descending towards Zermatt, and all peril was over. We 
frequently looked, but in vain, for traces of our unfortunate 
companions ; we bent over the ridge and cried to them, but 
no sound returned. Convinced at last that they were 
neither within sight nor hearing, we ceased from our use- 
less efforts ; and, too cast down for speech, silently gathered 
up our things, and the little effects of those who were lost, 
preparatory to continuing the descent. When lo ! a mighty 
arch appeared, rising above the Lyskamm, high into the 
sky. Pale, colourless and noiseless, but perfectly sharp and 
defined, except where it was lost in the clouds, this un- 



ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN 89 

earthly apparition seemed like a vision from another world ; 
and, almost appalled, we watched with amazement the 
gradual development of two vast crosses, one on either side. 
If the Taugwalders had not been the first to perceive it, I 
should have doubted my senses. They thought it had some 
connection with the accident, and I, after a while, thought 
it might bear some relation to ourselves. But our move- 
ments had no effect upon it. The spectral forms remained 
motionless. It was a fearful and wonderful sight ; unique 
in my experience, and impressive beyond description, com- 
ing at such a moment. 

I tore down the cliff, madly and recklessly, in a way that 
caused the others to inquire if I wished to kill them. Night 
fell ; and for an hour the descent was continued in the dark- 
ness. At 9:30 p. M. a resting-place was found, and upon a 
wretched slab, barely large enough to hold the three, we 
passed six miserable hours. At daybreak, the descent was 
resumed, and from the Hornli ridge we ran down to the 
chalets of Buhl, and on to Zermatt. Ere long a score of 
men had started to ascend the Hornlicht heights j they re- 
turned after six hours and reported that they had seen the .1 
bodies lying motionless in the snow. ... ** 

We started at 2 a. m. on Sunday. By 8:30, we had got /' 

to the plateau at the top of the glacier, and within sight of 
the corner in which we knew my companions must be. We 
approached. They had fallen below as they had fallen 
above — Croz a little in advance, Hadow near him, and 
Hudson some distance behind j but of Lord F. Douglas we 
could see nothing. We left them where they fell ; buried 
in the snow at the base of the grandest cliff of the most 
majestic mountain of the Alps. 

The administration sent strict injunctions to recover the 



go SWITZERLAND 

bodies, and upon the 19th of July, twenty-one men of 
Zermatt accomplished that sad and dangerous task. Of 
the body of Lord Francis Douglas they too saw nothing; 
it is probably still arrested on the rocks above. The re- 
mains of Hudson and Hadow were interred upon the north 
side of Zermatt church in the presence of a reverent crowd 
of sympathizing friends. The body of Michel Croz lies 
upon the other side under a simpler tomb ; whose inscrip- 
tion bears honourable testimony to his rectitude, to his cour- 
age and to his devotion. 



MONT BLANC 

SIR WILLIAM MARTIN CONWAY 

IT was eight o'clock on as bright a morning as one 
could desire, when we left Courmayeur to cross Mont 
Blanc to Chamouni. We walked leisurely through a 
pine wood, whose trees framed the loveliest glimpses of the 
Geant and Grandes Jorasses. The path mounted steadily. 
Unusual heat caused a high mist to form, wherein the peaks 
became hourly fainter and less substantial, till rock and 
sky partook of the same transparency. Round a corner, 
the stone covered foot of the Miage glacier appeared, fill- 
ing all the breadth of the valley with some splintered rocky 
points standing beyond it. In two hours we halted for 
lunch at the cantine of La Visaille. Then we went for- 
ward through the flowery meadow beyond. The path led 
up the old Miage moraine, where young trees are now 
growing beside the stream that drains the Combal Lake. It 
is a pretty winding path, and brought us, all too soon, to 
the lake's margin and the open ground above. Here we 
bore to the right, over grass, and came again to the foot of 
the glacier's existing moraine, where it sweeps round in a 
noble curve out of the deep Miage valley. We climbed 
to the crest and entered on the stone-covered ice at a 
moundy and disagreeable place. 

Two hours above La Visaille we halted for a second 
lunch in the midst of the gently-sloping glacier. As we 



92 SWITZERLAND 

faced down it, the spotty pyramid of Mont Favre was be- 
fore us, the cQuloired slopes of Trelatete on our right hand, 
and the crags of Brouillard on our left. Looking up to- 
wards the Col de Miage, we identified the ice-cascades 
whereby the snows that fall on the south-west slopes of 
Mont Blanc empty their three fine glaciers into the Miage 
basin. Nearest to us was the Mont Blanc glacier, which 
falls from the crest between the Bosses du Dromedaire 
and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur. Next, and separated 
from it by the buttress called Rocher du Mont Blanc, was 
the Dome glacier. Last came the Bionnassay glacier, 
whose sides are the Aiguilles Crises and the ridge joining 
the Aiguille de Bionnassay to the Col de Miage. 

To save another halt, we put on our pattis and gaiters 
before starting ; in half an hour we came to the clear ice, 
and five minutes later we were wading soft snow, through 
which impeded streams of water soaked their disagreeable 
way. We welcomed a crevassed bit of glacier, though it, 
too, was so deeply snow-covered that the bridges were dis- 
guised. Beyond, we gained the left bank of the glacier, 
and mounted it, traversing eastwards over slopes of ava- 
lanche snow, down which things of all sorts fell. One 
wet little avalanche came our way but did no harm. Later 
in the season, we should have followed a footpath ; but 
now it was only higher up, as we turned over the ridge into 
the basin of the Dome glacier, that the path emerged from 
its winter covering. Here we found an overhanging rock 
and a built-up sheltering wall of dry stones, the old sleep- 
ing-place, now abandoned for the admirable Italian Club- 
hut which comes into view almost at this point. The 
rough path continued for a while, leading to a snow-slope 
and a couloir^ both swept at this season by little avalanches ; 




2; 

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7. 

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MONT BLANC 93 

but the afternoon shadow was already over them and only 
one or two stones fell. We entered the door of the hut 
without adventure in less than seven hours of easy walking 
from Courmayeur. 

This hut is the best I have seen outside the Tyrol. It 
is built wholly of wood, draughtlessly joined together. 
Doors, shutters, and windows fit. The furniture and im- 
plements are strong and sufficient. The fire draws and 
the chimney does not smoke. The place is superbly situ- 
ated. Over against it, and higher up, the Sella hut was in 
view on the Rocher du Mont Blanc, half buried in snow. 
There was plenty of snow around us, too. Carrel pointed 
out where, the year before, when he was with Mr. Whym- 
per, they pitched their tent on a flat platform. It was now 
a steep snow-slope across which we had to cut a way. 
Then, he said, the traverse to the plateau of the Dome 
glacier lay almost entirely over rocks ; now it would in- 
volve continuous steps, and we sent him and Amar Sing to 
make them while the snow was soft. While supper was 
preparing, and' the evening was drawing on, I sat outside 
the little hut and studied its wonderful and interesting sur- 
roundings. Northward the upper basin of the Dome glacier 
was admirably displayed in all its steep descent to the fine 
ice-fall plunging from our feet. I traced the many varia- 
tions of route by which this so slowly elaborated ascent has 
been made. 

If our chief interest lay to the north, south-eastward, 
down the glacier, was the direction of beauty. On the one 
side, the crags of the Rocher du Mont Blanc were bathed 
in warm light ; on the other, the riven wall of Trelatete 
was merged in shadow and only the snow-crest above 
flashed back the radiance of the lowering sun. The stone- 



94 SWITZERLAND 

covered floor of the glacier lay dark in gloom, but a band 
of light still touched the Combal Lake, P'avre's pyramid 
divided the distance, wherein the Ruitor's snows were 
prominent and white Sassiere's point rose above the clouds. 
Presently mountains and clouds were alike bathed in pink 
which in its turn faded away. Finest of all was the view 
by night, when the moon crowned Trelatete with silver 
and touched the crest of Bionnassay's topmost ridge, but 
left in mysterious shadow the rock-wall opposite us and the 
deep valley, whilst away in the far distance faint sugges- 
tions of peaks and snows and softest clouds, floating in 
light-permeated air, received from the bold foreground an 
intensified delicacy. 

By one o'clock the guides were stirring. A (ew minutes 
after two we were on our way. It took but a short quarter 
of an hour to follow the steps made by Carrel in the even- 
ing, which the frost had turned into a staircase as of rock. 
Thus we emerged upon an easy snow-slope, whilst the 
moon, already in its last quarter, hung on the crest of the 
Rocher du Mont Blanc. For some distance above us the 
glacier was cut across by walls of ice with slopes of ava- 
lanche debris between, up which we wound to turn obstacles 
as they came. Step-cutting was almost continuously re- 
quired, but the slopes were not steep and small chips suf- 
ficed. The dim light of future day soon rendered our lan- 
terns useless. Greys and faint purples began to overspread 
the distant view ; then dawn swept her rosy wing over all 
and the golden day appeared, full armed, on the margin of 
the east. 

As the slopes became steeper and step-cutting more 
laborious and slow, there was time to look about and note 
the value of the regular pyramid of Mont Favre standing 



MONT BLANC 95 

out before the white sweeps and scoops of more distant 
mountains. But the eye seldom wandered so far afield ; 
close at hand were objects of fascinating beauty. We 
were passing between cavernous blue crevasses, and 
schrunds half-opening their icicle eye-lids to the heavens. 
Cold curdled neve poured down on all sides between jut- 
ting walls of splintered rock. Sometimes we mounted 
ruins of avalanches using the frozen balls as helpful steps. 
Then we came to a hard slope where the whispers of baby 
breezes were silenced by the crunch of Carrel's axe. On 
the furthest southern horizon domed clouds were rising in 
upward air-currents, like great plane-trees. At last only 
one glacier rift, though it was fifty yards wide at least and 
more like a valley than a schrund^ remained to be turned, 
before easy snow-slopes, interrupted by two insignificant 
hergschrunds^ offered kindly access to the col on the arete 
joining the Aiguille Grise to the Dome du Gouter's south- 
ward ridge. After three hours of ascent up the glacier we 
halted for breakfast fifteen minutes below this col. 

A cold wind caught us on the ridge, but at first we 
hardly noticed it, for we were warm with walking, and the 
view was grand. Divinely blue was the glimpse we caught 
of Geneva Lake, whilst all the lower hills spread beneath a 
purple haze. Dauphiny, too, saluted us, and the country 
through which we had come — Ruitor and Sassiere, Grand 
Paradis, Levonna and Grand Casse, Monte Niso, and 
ranges more remote. 

A comfortable broad snow arete led in a few minutes to 
the point of junction with that from the Aiguille de Bionnas- 
say, whose slender edge trended gracefully away. In three- 
quarters of an hour we reached the narrow crest, whence, 
by a sudden breaking storm, Count Villanova and his guides 



96 SWITZERLAND 

were blown to swift destruction, so that their bodies have 
since remained undiscovered in the depth of the glacier be- 
low. But to-day, though the wind was cold and strong, it 
was not too strong for safety. Besides, truth to tell, the 
arete at its narrowest is not really narrow. Had we not 
heard of its fame we should have passed it unnoticed. 

As the morning advanced, the atmosphere grew more 
dense with vapour and more rich in hue. Flocks of tiny 
oval clouds grazed the green hills. The Lake of Geneva 
was lost beneath a purple pall. The snow sometimes gave 
place to ice, which delayed our advance and made step-cut- 
ting laborious, and this was especially the case when we 
reached the flank of the Dome. There too the wind rose 
and smote us fiercely, when, in an hour and a quarter from 
the Col de Bionnassay, we emerged on the broad saddle by 
the Dome, twenty minutes below Monsieur Vallot's huts. 
There are two of these, one built for the use of climbers, 
the other for the owner's accommodation and observatory. 
Some excellent scientific work has already been accom- 
plished here. It looks a more business-like affair than the 
hut on the summit of the peak, built in imitation of it by 
M. Jansen, and which could scarcely have been built at all 
but for the accommodation provided for the workmen by 
the Vallot hut. M. Vallot is therefore evidently within his 
rights when he claims to be the pioneer in the matter of 
Mont Blanc observatories. 

We sheltered awhile behind the cahane and quitted our 
baggage there, when Karbir, Aymonod and I started to cut 
steps up the exposed ridge of the Bosses, leaving the others 
to follow at their warmth and leisure. 

Karbir led to the summit and did all the cutting quickly 
and well. We had no predecessor's tracks to abbreviate 



MONT BLANC 97 

our toil. The area of the view steadily enlarged, but the 
amount of visible earth diminished under the cloud-flocks, 
which gathered themselves into beautiful lines, long drawn 
out, one beyond another. 

It was just noon when we stood on the top, arriving 
there all together. The first thing we looked at was not 
Europe at our feet, but M. Jansen's hut — a dreadful dis- 
figurement. The last time I was here, the surface of the 
snowy dome was one unbroken curve of snow, aloof from 
man. Now man has rooted the evidences of his activity 
deep into the icy mass and strewed its surface with shav- 
ings and paper, so frozen down that the storms of the 
whole year have not sufficed to remove them. I cannot 
however say that we felt any resentment against the hut- 
builders, for we took shelter behind the observatory from 
the blasts of the cold gale. 

The panorama was complete and included the Pennine 
and Oberland ranges besides those we had already seen. 
It was however the clouds that fascinated us most, the 
flocks of little ones on the hills at our feet and the lines of 
soft white billows as it were breaking far away on a wide 
and shallow shore, with blue between and beneath them. 
Far to the south, creamy in sunlight and distance, rose 
domed cumuli above the Maritimes. Everything looked 
still, and yet, I suppose, the wind was really hurrying along 
the air and whatever floated within it. The sky for a 
quarter of its height had parted with its azure to the valley- 
deeps and was striped all round with finest lines, incredibly 
numerous, like the lines in a wide-stretched solar spectrum, 
and each edging a new grade of tone. 

We ran in half an hour back to the Vallot hut, picked 
up our things, and made ofF for Chamouni. As we dipped 



98 SWITZERLAND 

to the Grand Plateau, the snow began to be soft, but it 
never became really bad. We turned the crevasse below 
the Plateau by its left end, ran easily down the slope called 
Grandes Montees, and hurried across the Petit Plateau, 
where men have lost their lives and will again lose them in 
the ice-avalanches that from time to time tumble from the 
Dome du Gouter's cliffs and sweep the whole breath of the 
traversable way. The steep snow-slope of the Petites 
Montees was too soft to be glissaded ; down it we had to 
wade and then find our way through the crevassed region 
that intervenes between it and the Grands Mulcts. Here, 
with no tracks to guide us, we might have lost some time, 
but our men were skilful and fortunate, so that, in an hour 
and three-quarters from the Vallot hut, we reached the edge 
of the rocks by the well-known Grands Mulets cahane and 
were rejoiced to find it occupied. 

Clouds were boiling up from the valleys, but they left 
Mont Blanc clear. One copper-coloured tower of mist 
rose before us in splendidly threatening manner, and the 
sunlight turned lurid in its depths. The air was every- 
where heavy with moisture and the Brevent ridge was so 
softened by it that mountains, clouds and mist faded into 
one another as though fashioned of one insubstantial me- 
dium. The sun turned ghostly pale, shining through ableared 
sky, and over ghostly ridges into the veiled valley below. 

At last, to avoid being benighted, we started down once 
more, following the tracks of the porters who bring things 
to the hut. They were unskilfully laid out, and took us 
into dangerous places, first down a slope of s'erac debris^ 
overhung by tottering masses of ice, and then through a 
series of rotten seracs and across the easy but deeply snow- 
covered Glacier des Bossons« 



MONT BLANC 99 

At the far side is a well-known dangerous place where 
ice and stones fall from the hanging glacier of the Aiguille 
du Midi. We were in no mood to linger hereabouts, for 
it sweeps with stones the whole place more or less, and 
this was the time of year for them to come, and the hour 
too, after a hot day with plenty of snow melting and slip- 
ping everywhere. One or two stones fell during the ten 
minutes that intervened before we reached the Pierre a 
I'Echelle. Below that we had several good glissades before 
turning away to the right by the path that led in ten 
minutes more to the Pierre Pointue, where our adventures 
ended. 

The sun poured a final stream of red upon us, then sank 
behind a hill, whilst we zigzagged in the woods towards the 
valley-floor that seemed not to approach. There are lovely 
woods and the path is beautiful, offering every variety of 
foreground and frame for the changing distant views. But 
now our senses were becoming dulled to beauty, and our 
minds had sunk into the heaviness of our feet. It was night 
when we reached the valley road. We followed It in dark- 
ness towards the lamps of Chamouni and the comfortable 
quarters of Couttet's Hotel. 



THE JUNGFRAU 

JOHN TTNDALL 

ON August 6th (1863), -f ^^^ ^^ pleasure of joining 
Dr. Hornby and Mr. Philpotts, who, with Chris- 
tian Aimer and Christian Lauener for their guides, 
wished to ascend the Jungfrau. We quitted the i^ggisch- 
horn at 2:15 p. m., and at less than four hours reached the 
grottoes of the Faulberg. A pine fire was soon blazing, a 
pan of water soon bubbling sociably over the flame and the 
evening meal was quickly prepared and disposed of. For a 
time, the air behind the Jungfrau and Monk was exceed- 
ingly dark and threatening, rain was streaming down upon 
Lauterbrunnen, and the skirt of the storm wrapped the 
summits of the Jungfrau and the Monk. Southward, how- 
ever, the sky was clear ; and there were such general evi- 
dences of hope that we were not much disheartened by the 
local burst of ill-temper displayed by the atmosphere to the 
north of us. Like a gust of passion, the clouds cleared 
away, and before we went to rest all was sensibly clear. 
Still the air was not transparent, and for a time the stars 
twinkled through It with a feeble ray. There was no visi- 
ble turbidity, but a something which cast off half the stellar 
brilliancy. The starlight, however, became gradually 
stronger, not on account of the augmenting darkness, but 
because the air became clarified as the night advanced. 

Two of our party occupied the upper cave, and the 
guides took possession of the kitchen, while a third lay in 



i 




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o 

z 

H 



THE JUNGFRAU loi 

the little grot below. Hips and ribs felt throughout the 
night the pressure of the subjacent rock. A single blanket, 
moreover, though sufficient to keep out the pain of cold, 
was insufficient to induce the comfort of warmth; so I lay- 
awake in a neutral condition, neither happy nor unhappy, 
watching the stars without emotion as they appeared in suc- 
cession above the mountain-heads. 

At half-past twelve a rumbling in the kitchen showed the 
guides to be alert, and soon afterwards Christian Aimer an- 
nounced that tea was prepared. We rose, consumed a 
crust and basin each, and at 1:15 A. m., being perfectly 
harnessed, we dropped down upon the glacier. The cres- 
cent moon was in the sky, but for a long time we had to 
walk in the shadow of the mountains, and therefore re- 
quired illumination. The bottoms were knocked out of 
two empty bottles, and each of these, inverted, formed a 
kind of lantern which protected from the wind a candle 
stuck in the neck. Aimer went first, holding his lantern 
in his left hand and his axe in the right, moving cautiously 
along the snow, which as the residue of the spring ava- 
lanches, fringed the glacier. At times, for no apparent 
reason, the leader paused and struck his ice-axe into the 
snow. Looking right or left, a chasm was always discov- 
ered in these cases, and the cautious guide sounded the 
snow, lest the fissure should have prolonged itself under- 
neath so as to cross our track. A tributary glacier joined 
the Aletsch from our right — a long corridor filled with ice, 
and covered by the purest snow. Down this valley the 
moonlight streamed, silvering the surface upon which it 
fell. 

Here we cast our lamps away, and roped ourselves to- 
gether. To our left a second long ice-corridor stretched up 



102 SWITZERLAND 

to the Lotsch saddle, which hung like a chain between the 
opposing mountains. In fact, at this point, four noble ice- 
streams form a junction, and flow afterwards in the com- 
mon channel of the Great Aletsch glacier. Perfect stillness 
might have been expected to reign upon the ice, but even 
at that early hour the gurgle of sub-glacial water made itself 
heard, and we had to be cautious in some places lest a too 
thin crust might let us in. We went straight up the 
glacier, towards the col which links the Monk and Jung- 
frau together. The surface was hard, and we went rapidly 
and silently over the snow. There is an earnestness of 
feeling on such occasions which subdues the desire for con- 
versation. The communion we held was with the solemn 
mountains and their background of dark blue sky. 

" Der Tag hricht ! " exclaimed one of the men. I 
looked towards the eastern heaven, but could discover no 
illumination which hinted at the approach of day. At 
length the dawn really appeared, brightening the blue of the 
eastern firmament j at first it was a mere augmentation of 
cold light, but by degrees it assumed a warmer tint. The 
long uniform incline of the glacier being passed, we reached 
the first eminences of snow which heave like waves around 
the base of the Jungfrau. This is the region of beauty in 
the higher Alps — beauty pure and tender — out of which 
emerges the savage scenery of the peaks. For the healthy 
and the pure in heart these higher snow fields are conse- 
crated ground. 

The snow bosses were soon broken by chasms deep and 
dark, which required tortuous winding to get round them. 
Having surmounted a steep slope, we passed to some red 
and rotten rocks, which required care on the part of those 
in front to prevent the loose and slippery shingle from falling 



THE JUNGFRAU 103 

upon those behind. We gained the ridge and wound along 
it. High snow eminences now flanked us to the left, and 
along the slope over which we passed, the seracs had shaken 
their frozen boulders. We tramped amid the knolls of the 
fallen avalanches towards a white wall which, so far as we 
could see, barred further progress. To our right were no- 
ble chasms, blue and profound, torn into the heart of the 
neve by the slow but resistless drag of gravity on the 
descending snows. Meanwhile the dawn had brightened 
into perfect day, and over mountains and glaciers the gold 
and purple light of the eastern heaven was liberally poured. 
We had already caught sight of the peak of the Jungfrau, 
rising behind an eminence and piercing for fifty feet or 
so the rosy dawn. And many another peak of stately alti- 
tude caught the blush, while the shaded slopes were all of a 
beautiful azure, being illuminated by the firmament alone. 
A large segment of space enclosed between the Monk and 
Trugberg was filled like a reservoir with purple light. The 
world, in fact, seemed to worship, and the flush of adora- 
tion was on every mountain-head. 

Over the distant Italian Alps rose clouds of the most 
fantastic forms, jutting forth into the heavens like enormous 
trees, thrusting out umbrageous branches which bloomed 
and glistened in the solar rays. Along the whole southern 
heaven these fantastic masses were ranged close together, 
but still perfectly isolated, until on reaching a certain alti- 
tude they seemed to meet a region of wind which blew their 
tops like streamers far away through the air. Warmed and 
tinted by the morning sun, those unsubstantial masses ri- 
valled in grandeur the mountains themselves. 

The final peak of the Jungfrau is now before us, and 
apparently so near ! But the mountaineer alone knows how 



104 SWITZERLAND 

delusive the impression of nearness often is in the Alps* 
To reach the slope which led up to the peak we must scale 
or round the barrier already spoken of. From the coping 
and the ledges of this beautiful wall hung long stalactites of 
ice, in some cases like inverted spears, with their sharp 
points free in air. In other cases, the icicles which de- 
scended from the overhanging top reached a projecting 
lower ledge, and stretched like a crystal railing from the one 
to the other. To the' right of this barrier was a narrow 
gangway, from which the snow had not yet broken away so 
as to form a vertical or overhanging wall. It was one of 
those accidents which the mountains seldom fail to furnish, 
and on the existence of which the success of the climber 
entirely depends. Up this steep and narrow gangway, we 
cut our steps, and a few minutes placed us safely at the 
bottom of the final pyramid of the Jungfrau. From this 
point we could look down into the abyss of the Roththal, 
and certainly its wild environs seemed to justify the uses to 
which superstition has assigned the place. For here it is 
said the original demons of the mountains hold their orgies, 
and hither the spirits of the doubly-damned among men are 
sent to bear them company. The slope up which we had 
now to climb was turned towards the sun ; its aspect was a 
southern one, and its snows had been melted and recongealed 
to hard ice. The axe of Aimer rung against the obdurate 
solid, and its fragments whirred past us with a weird-like 
sound to the abysses below. They suggested the fate which 
a false step might bring along with it. 

The work upon this final ice-slope was long and heavy, 
and during this time the summit appeared to maintain its 
distance above us. We at length cleared the ice, and 
gained a stretch of snow which enabled us to treble our up- 



THE JUNGFRAU 105 

ward speed. Thence to some loose and shingly rocks, 
again to the snow, whence a sharp edge led directly up to 
the top. The exhilaration of success was here added to that 
derived from physical nature. On the top fluttered a little 
black flag, planted by our most recent predecessors. We 
reached it at 7:15 a. m., having accomplished the ascent 
from the Faulberg in six hours. The snow was flattened 
on either side of the apex so as to enable us all to stand 
upon it, and here we stood for some time, with all the mag- 
nificence of the Alps unrolled before us. 

We may look upon those mountains again and again from 
a dozen different points of view, a perennial glory surrounds 
them which associates with every new prospect fresh im- 
pressions. I thought I had scarcely ever seen the Alps to 
greater advantage. Hardly ever was their majesty more 
fully revealed or more overpowering. The colouring of 
the air contributed as much to the effect as the grandeur of 
the masses on which that colouring fell. A calm splendour 
overspread the mountains, softening the harshness of the 
outlines without detracting from their strength. But half the 
interest of such scenes is psychological : the soul takes the 
tint of surrounding nature, and in its turn becomes majestic. 



ZERMATT AND MONTE ROSA 

SIR WILLIAM M, CONWAY 

THE narrow-gauge and, in places, cogged railway, 
carried us up to Zermatt. It is the fashion to 
abuse these improved mountain highways, a fool- 
ish fashion to my thinking. Before the Zermatt rail- 
way was made, 30,000 people annually visited the place. 
They had to walk or ride from Visp to S. Niklaus by the 
single mule-path, and their baggage had to be taken up by 
pack-animals. The foul condition into which the road 
was brought by the end of August can scarcely be con- 
ceived, and will never be forgotten by those who experi- 
enced it. For the sake of mere decency and cleanliness, 
some better system of transportation was needed. Now, 
I dare say, 60,000 or more persons are annually conveyed 
to Zermatt by train, but the traveller who desires a quiet 
country walk can follow the path on foot and will find it 
clean and almost deserted. Doubtless, an ordinary road 
would have served all needful purposes, but it could not be 
had. The short-sighted commune of Visp, to whom the 
lower part of the valley belongs, refused permission, think- 
ing thus to retain a larger number of tourists for one night 
in their stifling village and to secure employment for their 
mules. Only a railroad concession, for which their assent 
was not required, could over-ride the village veto. The 
Vispachers are probably regretting their obstinacy, now that 




O 

O 
% 



ZERMATT AND MONTE ROSA 107 

it has resulted in empty inns and unemployed beasts. A 
road would have made their fortune. 

The crowds that flood Switzerland in the best season of 
the year only become endurable to mountain lovers when 
they are dammed into channels and controlled. They 
consist for the most part of glorified trippers — good folk of 
their sort, but not beautiful en masse. They have to be 
kept going from morning to night. With infinite docility, 
they follow from hour to hour the appointed path, ascend- 
ing even in rain to points of view, and taking their luck, 
for the most part contentedly. It cannot be denied that the 
regular Swiss Round, which belongs to them, is admirably 
contrived, and includes the pick of easily accessible Alpine 
scenery. If unconventional and quiet-loving travellers are 
not robbed of it, they have to thank modern modes of trans- 
portation for their immunity. Every new hill-railroad, every 
recognized lunching-place, or Belvedere, becomes a further 
clamp that yet more irrevocably holds the crowd to its par- 
ticular and narrow route. At Chamouni, for instance, if 
you shun table d'hote and certain paths at certain hours, you 
need hardly see a tourist. They have their places and their 
times, and can be avoided now as a ^cw years ago they could 
not be avoided. 

We found Zermatt, if changed at all by the railway, 
changed for the better. It lost its pristine simplicity years 
ago, and was on a par with frequented watering-places be- 
fore ever a locomotive-whistle raised the echoes of the valley. 
The coming of the railway has enabled the crowd to be 
better controlled and better supplied. Their hours of arri- 
val and departure are now fixed : they flood m at one time 
and are distributed for food and sleep. They all start to- 
gether for the Corner Grat and they leave together at the 



io8 SWITZERLAND 

hour ordained. Of course, the resident population, by 
which I mean the visitors who come to stay, is no longer of 
the old type. A large proportion consists of invalids and 
old people who could never have reached Zermatt at all 
without the railway to bring them. There are fewer climb- 
ers, though perhaps ascents are more numerous, for multi- 
tudes undertake a scramble as an exceptional experience, 
who in the old days would not have dreamt of going on 
snow. There appear to be few or no habitues. The 
guides, who have greatly increased in numbers, complain 
that work is diminishing except during a few days in the 
height of the season. 

Our intention in coming to Zermatt was to traverse the 
Matterhorn, but a single glance at the mountain showed it 
to be for the time inaccessible. Not a guide would stir for 
it at any price. 

If the Matterhorn was closed, Monte Rosa was not ; so we 
started after lunch on July nth, 1894, and walked slowly 
up to the RifFelalp and on to the RifFelberg inn. A broad 
and well engineered mule-road has supplanted the old faint 
foot-track. The old Riffel inn is little changed. 

Promptly at midnight, I was summoned from a deep deli- 
cious slumber. In half an hour, a hasty breakfast was de- 
spatched, and we were on our way, lighted by two flicker- 
ing lanterns. There was no change in the weather, save 
that a broad bed of cloud lay across the south, and was piled 
high over the Theodul Pass. We marched steadily up the 
good path leading to the gap between the Riffelhorn and 
Corner Grat. Beyond the gap, it traverses the broad hill- 
side, and descends slowly to the Corner glacier. It has of 
late been much improved, so that mules can follow it to the 
edge of the ice, a state of things very different from the old. 



ZERMATT AND MONTE ROSA 109 

In a little more than half an hour we trod the ice. Night 
still reio-ned in its blackest hour. Nowhere was there visible 

o 

promise of dawn. Over the Weissthor, the Pleiades were 
rising on the edge of the ice. The great mountains stood 
up dimly around, felt rather than seen. Our tread crunched 
the crisp honey-combed surface of the glacier ; streamlets 
jangled past beneath us, or leapt into mills ; the wind visited 
us in noisy puffs. Now and again a step had to be cut, and 
once the strained glacier burst across with a ringing sound 
at the point where Carrel's axe struck it, and a baby 
crevasse was formed. 

We did not take the best way over the ice, and we re- 
mained on it too long, thus providing for ourselves difficulty 
in effecting an exit on to the moraine that borders the rocks 
called the Plattze at the foot of Monte Rosa. It was here 
that a new hut was building. The carefully made road to 
it, easily found by daylight, would have saved us trouble. 
Above the hut one mounts over rough crystalline rocks, 
rounded by the ancient glacier that covered them, and up a 
few snow-slopes to the highest rocks, called Auf'm Felsen^ 
where we could extinguish the lanterns on halting for a 
brief meal. 

Such halts for refreshment are among the best of moun- 
tain pleasures. They are generally made in the midst of 
fine scenery and at some period of the climb when a definite 
stage of the work has been accomplished, so that there is a 
sense of repose well earned. But this morning there was no 
pleasure in our halt. The wind was already howling about 
us. Shelter could not be found. The sky was overcast 
with leaden clouds which, hanging above or behind the 
mountains, seemed to depress them into little hills. Only 
in the blue, purple and grey chord of colour was there a 




no SWITZERLAND 

strange dignity and beauty of a threatening sort. We could 
hardly eat for shivering. Each put on whatever extra 
wrap he had and prepared to face the elements. At 4:15, 
we fastened ourselves to the rope and started again in grim 
humour. 

The sun was just coming up, and pouring a golden flood 
of light beneath the roof of clouds. It caught their rippled 
undersurface and revealed a series of tiny parallel wavelets, 
formed by the hurrying wind. Great waves and umbrellas 
of cloud hung over most of the peaks. There was a pallor 
of death upon the snow which was hard as a wooden floor. 
We advanced rapidly over the region of hidden crevasses 
just above the Felsen, without need for cautious inquiry as 
to the strength of their roofs. Beyond came the snow- 
slopes of the beautiful Monte Rosa glacier, where, when 
the snow is soft, fatigue awaits the aspiring traveller. 

The top of the mountain mass, which goes collectively 
under the name of Monte Rosa, that is to say " Monte 
Roese " or the " Glacier Mountain," is a long ridge with 
several peaks. The Nord End, as the name implies, is the 
most northerly and is on the frontier, then comes the highest 
point or Dufour Spitze. The Zumstein Spitze follows and 
then the Signal Kuppe, where the two great ridges intersect 
and form what ought to be the culminating point of the 
mountain. The Dufour Spitze is eighty-five feet higher 
than the Nord End. So slight a difference is not worth 
mentioning. As the Nord End is but rarely climbed and 
occupies to my thinking a finer situation than its neighbour, 
I determined to make it our goal. The route to it had this 
advantage that it was protected from the raging gale. 

Accordingly, after mounting snow-slopes for an hour or 
so, we bore away to the left into the heart of the Monte 



ZERMATT AND MONTE ROSA 1 1 1 

Rosa nevej instead of turning up to the right and climbing 
to the saddle, whence a rock- and snow-arete leads to the 
highest peak. The two highest summits are connected by 
a beautiful white ridge, called the Silber Sattel, the upper 
edge of a great snow-field, one of the loftiest in the Alps, 
where storms rage with unusual frequency, and the annual 
snow-fall is doubtless above the average. The Monte Rosa 
glacier drains this plateau. The descending neve breaks 
away in huge steps, each overhung by a wall of threatening 
ice. Avalanches break from these walls and their ruins en- 
cumber the slopes. The schrunds^ ice-walls, and seracs of 
the Monte Rose neve are some of the finest in Europe. 

Our original intention was to climb first to the Silber 
Sattel and then to the Nord End, but we could not see a 
way through the great crevasses, so we turned instead up the 
mountain's face and made for its north ridge, a route I took 
many years ago in company with that excellent guide Ferdi- 
nard Imseng, who met his death shortly afterwards on the 
Macugnaga side of the same mountain. In three hours and 
a half from our breakfast place, we reached the hergschrund at 
the foot of the face. It was not very quick going, but then 
we did not always choose the best route amongst the 
crevasses, and once we made a long descent below some tot- 
ter ing seracs^ which would have been dangerous in the 
afternoon. 

For a time the gale kept off the clouds. They remained 
high above the great peaks, and patches of blue sky were 
amongst them. The effect was wild and fine. As we 
crossed the hergschrund our spirits rose. " In an hour," said 
Aymonod, "we ought to be on the top." His axe went to 
work on the slope of hard snow, and step followed step in 
Quick succession. At a pause, the word "ice " came down 



112 SWITZERLAND 

the line. There was no mistake about it. It was as hard 
and blue as any I ever saw. Our rate of progress became 
slow in proportion. Each step had now to be hewn as out 
of rock. The higher we mounted, the stronger blew the 
wind. It bore a freezing cloud of fresh fallen snow, where- 
with it filled the steps as we quitted them. The cold be- 
came intense ; the fitful sunshine was scarcely felt. P'or- 
tunately I was wearing a new pair of Zermatt-made boots, 
and for the first time in my life knew what it was to be 
warmly shod. Three thicknesses of leather over the foot 
form a real protection. I kept asking the men about their 
state and all assured me they were right ; but doubtless it 
was at this time the frost caught Amar Sing, though he did 
not discover that his toes were frost-bitten till the evening. 
Hour passed after hour and we scarcely seemed to approach 
the gap for which we were making in the rock ridge above. 
One guide relieved the other and then we sent Karbri 
ahead. He worked admirably and brought us to the top of 
the slope. Beyond the gap we emerged on to a snow-field, 
where the new snow was piled in powdery drifts, up which 
we waded, after Amar Sing, to the sharp rock top. 

There was no talk of halting for the view ; there was 
little view to halt for. The Macugnaga Valley below was 
one great cauldron of whirling mists, clouds were sweeping 
down towards us in massed battalions and wreaths of snow 
were whirling about in tiny cyclones all around. We just 
passed over the peak, noticed that the hour was noon, and 
at once began the descent along the other ridge towards the 
Silber Sattel, judging that the slopes In that direction were 
of snow. We did not relish the idea of going down our 
ice staircase of a thousand steps, when each step would 
first have to be cleared of drifted snow. Moreover, we 



ZERMATT AND MONTE ROSA 113 

had seen a way through the crevasses which we judged 
would prove both safe and rapid. 

Before descending far, we found that, though the slope 
was of snow, the snow was too hard to be trodden, so step- 
cutting began again. For an hour we made tantalizingly 
slow progress. The maze of crevasses was at our feet and 
there was our way visible through it j but it was an intri- 
cate way and I questioned whether we should find it in a 
fog, whilst there seemed every probability that mist soon 
would envelop us. The clouds passing over the landscape 
from Italy, were now coming in thicker ranks and at a 
continually lowering elevation. The Matterhorn was half 
buried in them. They were on the point of swallowing up all 
the higher levels. They poured over the Lyskamm, reached 
the crest of the Dufour peak, and began tearing down upon 
us. One moment the glacier below was like a map before 
us ; the next it was utterly blotted out. We could barely 
see one another. The worst appeared to have come, yet 
Fortune was not utterly cruel. A slight change in the 
wind turned our glacier-valley into a draught-way for the 
gale, which rent the mists asunder and enabled us thence- 
forth to see far enough for our needs. We gained slopes 
where the axe was no longer required, and began threading 
our way amongst the large crevasses. Cold kept the 
snow-bridges firm. We crossed one after another in quick 
succession. But a new danger awaited us. The fresh 
snow was piled up by the wind into heavy drifts on various 
slopes, too steep to retain it in stable equilibrium. Just as 
we were about to cross one of these, there was a dull crack, 
followed by a muffled roar ; the soft blanket peeled away 
and shot down to a lower level. We had again to cross 
such a slope, bordered below by an enormous schrund ; we 



114 SWITZERLAND 

cut it at its narrowest place but paid for our passage by 
traversing immediately below neve seracs^ some of which 
had recently fallen, whilst others, loaded with the fresh 
snow, seemed just about to fall. Here our only path was 
down an ice-gully, well used as an avalanche-trough, and 
so to a firm bridge over the lowest of the great crevasses. 
No time was lost in this part of the descent till we 
rejoined our old tracks. With swift feet and light hearts 
we hurried along them over endless easy snow-slopes to the 
Felsen breakfast-place, where the rope could be laid aside. 
Seated in what now seemed good shelter we took a hasty 
and uncomfortable meal after eight hours of enforced absti- 
nence. Then, but not till then, I discovered that the bit- 
ter cold had wrought an internal mischief in me, the effect 
of which was to last several days. 

The storm continued to rage, but intermittently, and on 
the whole at high elevations. It was the beginning of pro- 
longed bad weather and it took the peaks first. Not till 
the third day did it penetrate to the valleys and envelop 
them in its full fury, to the delight of the peasantry, who 
had been praying for rain. We watched the black clouds 
sweep over from Italy and stalk northwards, a whole series 
of them, following the Zinal ridge, each with a white or 
dark skirt according as it was strewing hail or rain. When 
these had passed to the Bernese Oberland, a new series 
came over and cast hail upon us, before taking the Ime of 
the Saas Grat and vanishing northwards in their turn, one 
behind the other. There was no lightning, and as for rain 
and hail, little cared we about them. We descended as 
fast as my injured condition allowed, to the place where men 
were erecting the new hut, whence a series of stones and 
one or two red flags {not of Liberty), set up on the glacier, 



ZERMATT AND MONTE ROSA 115 

guided us along the track smoothed for the mules. Thus 
without further adventure we reached the old RifFelhaus, 
eighteen hours after setting out from it. I contented my- 
self with descending for the night to the Riffielalp. 



TYPICAL TOURISTS 

VICTOR TISSOT 

FROM the left bank of the Reuss, the view of Lucerne 
is strikingly beautiful, with its bright quays covered 
with splendid hotels amid flowery terraces; its shady 
promenade, so gay and animated ; its clean, light squares ; 
its towers, raising into the sky their pepper-box roofs ; its 
bushy green hills, among which so many villas lie sheltered 
like linnets' nests in thickets of roses. It gives one the 
idea of a very large and very wealthy city, — a kind of rural 
Capua, which attracts and retains all who do not know 
what to make of their life. 

The opening of the St. Gothard railway has given a new 
impulse to this cosmopolitan city, which has a great future 
before it. Already it has supplanted Interlaken in the esti~ 
mation of the furbelowed, fashionable world, — the women 
who come to Switzerland not to see, but to be seen. 
Lucerne is now the chief summer station of the twenty- 
two Cantons ; and yet it does not possess many objects of 
interest. There is the old bridge on the Reuss, with its 
ancient paintings ; the Church of St. Leger, with its lateral 
altars and its Campo Santo, reminding us of Italian ceme- 
teries ; the museum at the Town Hall, with its fine collec- 
tion of stained glass ; the blood-stained standards from the 
Burgundian wars ; and the flag in which noble old Gundol- 
fingen, after charging his fellow-citizens never to elect their 



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TYPICAL TOURISTS 117 

magistrates for more than a year, wrapped himself as in a 
shroud of glory to die in the fight ; finally, there is the Lion 
of Lucerne, — and that is all. 

The rhost wonderful thing of all is that you are allowed 
to see this Lion for nothing ; for close beside it you are 
charged a franc for permission to cast an indifferent glance 
on some uninteresting excavations, which date, it is said, 
from the glacial period. We do not care if they do. 

The garden in which these latter " curiosities " are found 
is a distressingly dull place, with its pond of stagnant water 
in which some unfortunate ducks are imprisoned; its little 
wooden booths, in which is sold " everything that your 
honours can fancy ; '* Havana cigars at a penny ; match- 
boxes ; paper-cutters ; little boxes with the lyion painted on 
the top and music inside; carved napkin-rings; and bears 
without number, — dancing bears, bears wearing spectacles, 
performing military drill, carrying the Federal banner or an 
umbrella, singing the "Ranz des Vaches," or enjoying a 
cup of Suchard chocolate. This continual fair going on close 
by is quite out of harmony with the feeling of reverence 
with which we regard the grand Lion dying so nobly, as 
the Swiss Guards died in Paris in 1792. Such a monument 
would stand more fittingly in the silent sanctuary of some 
beautiful forest. 

But to return to the quay. The great quay of Lucerne 
is delightful, — as good as the seashore at Dieppe or Trou- 
ville. Before you, limpid and blue, lies the lake, which 
from the character of its shores, at once stern and graceful, 
is the finest in Switzerland. In front rise the snow-clad 
peaks of Uri, to the left the Rigi, to the right the austere 
Pilatus, almost always wearing his high cap of clouds. 

This beautiful walk on the quay, long and shady like the 



ii8 SWITZERLAND 

avenue of a gentleman's park, is the daily resort, towards 
four o'clock, of all the foreigners who are crowded in the 
hotels or packed in the boarding-houses. Here are Russian 
and Polish counts with long mustaches, and pins set with 
false brilliants ; Englishmen with fishes' or horses' heads ; 
Englishwomen with the figures of angels or of giraffes ; 
Parisian women, daintily attired, sprightly and coquettish ; 
American women, free in their bearing and eccentric in 
their dress, and their men as stiff as the smoke-pipes of 
steamboats; German women, with languishing voices, droop- 
ing and pale like willow branches, fair-haired and blue-eyed, 
talking in the same breath of Goethe and the price of 
sausages, of the moon and their glass of beer, of stars and 
black radishes. And here and there are a few little Swiss 
girls, fresh and rosy as wood strawberries, smiling darlings 
like Dresden shepherdesses, dreaming of scenes of piatonic 
love in a great garden adorned with the statue of William 
Tell or General Dufour. 

The quay is the great open-air drawing-room of this Al- 
pine high life which has its representatives from all nations, 
and which has selected Lucerne as one of its rendezvous, 
one of its summer halting-places. 

There you meet at every step faces that you have seen 
before in Paris or London, in Vienna or in Berlin. There 
are dresses of tints as transparent as water-colours, fashions 
of an elegant modernism enough to ravish the eye of a genre 
painter. And what variety of types among all those holiday- 
making people who are walking and talking and jabbering 
and chattering, discussing and slandering, hating or loving, 
seeking out or avoiding each other, looking at others or ex- 
hibiting themselves ! It does not take long to classify 
them. 



TYPICAL TOURISTS 119 

Take first the French. Here is the married tourist, — 
►he most serious of all, — already rather portly and half bald. 
You recognize him by his small figure, his short legs, by his 
wife walking like a sentinel at his side, and by his absorbing 
occupation as nurse-maid. He is continually in search of 
Paul or Jeanne, whom he is always in dread of seeing disap- 
pear over a precipice or into a torrent ; carries madame's 
waterproof and shawl, and the brats also when they are 
tired ; is always in a profuse perspiration, and casts envious 
looks at dogs without collars; thinks nothing finer than 
the railways that go to the tops of mountains, and the 
tramways that carry him to the foot of the glaciers; travels, 
to be like everybody else, to write his name and designation 
in the hotel registers, and to enable his wife to say on her 
reception days next winter, " Ah, yes, the Rigi, — that dear 
little baby railway ; oh, delicious ! ** 

Next comes the bachelor tourist, twenty-five or thirty, as 
alert and bold as the married tourist is prudent and slow ; 
treats the mountains with the familiarity of a superior to- 
wards an inferior; pats the Matterhorn on the shoulder, 
and takes the Jungfrau by the chin like a tavern bar-maid. 
In close-fitting cloth suit, felt hat over his ear, knapsack on 
his back, gaitered, and armed with alpenstock, he goes every- 
where, fears nothing, climbs as far as the chamois does, and 
arrives in the evening, sunburnt and looking like a bandit, 
at some mountain hotel, where after supper he invites the 
iadies to waltz ; assumes with ease the airs of my lord, 
drinks hard, and finishes by marrying an heiress whom he 
has saved from an inundation or an avalanche. 

The Tartarin (see Daudet). A very common type. 
Travels in illusion and flannel, and changes his clothes four 
times a day for fear of catching cold ; discourses with the 



120 SWITZERLAND 

peasants in the plains, to teach them how to sow wheat 
and to know turnips from potatoes ; believes that the Swiss 
still shoot with cross-bows, and that the bears at Berne 
were caught in the Oberland ; greets everybody ; chats 
familiarly with the hotel porter, whom he takes for the 
steward, or for a Swiss admiral, because of his gold-laced 
cap ; makes jokes with the waiters and becomes confidential 
with the attendants in cafes and with street-porters ; has 
seen everything, visited everything, ascended everything; 
relates stories that never happened ; is infatuated with him- 
self; thinks himself a better mountaineer than the men born 
on the mountains, and proclaims it aloud. The terror of 
tahles d'hote^ the bugbear of all sensible people. 

Next, the English. Finely and firmly built, accustomed 
from their early youth to violent exercise, they are invin- 
cible to fatigue ; make thirty or forty miles a day without 
resting their iron limbs ; the foremost and most intrepid 
climbers in the world, always rushing to a discovery or a 
conquest ; fierce, tenacious spirits, full of passion under their 
apparent coldness, scaling mountains with a martial ardour 
and carrying inaccessible summits by assault; seek out 
danger as an enjoyment and a luxury ; travel also as fami- 
lies, with a whole regiment of daughters dressed in the same 
material made on the same pattern, — short dresses, Scotch 
petticoats, tight black stockings, hair cut short on the fore- 
head, or hanging far down the back like a long mane, the neck 
imprisoned in a man's collar, a tight jacket of military cut, 
— neither girl nor boy, just English; carry telescopes, bo- 
tanical boxes, fishing-rods, butterfly-nets, and pick up all 
the little sparkling stones they see. 

We also meet in Switzerland a type of Englishwoman 
who deserves special mention,^-the tall old maid, thin and 



TYPICAL TOURISTS 121 

wiry, as dry as the moral of an ill-written tract. She has 
been travelling since she was thirty, and is now approaching 
fifty ; has crossed the Sahara alone on camel back ; has been 
a prisoner for two months among Greek brigands ; has 
ascended to the top of the Jungfrau with no guide but a 
little shepherd-boy ; travels with the sole object of accom- 
plishing so many miles. Last year she had measured with 
the pair of compasses on which she walks 7,500 miles ; this 
year she has but one desire, one aim, one ambition, — to go 
beyond that number. 

This is the Englishwoman of our French caricatures, 
made up like a scarecrow, with a red-checked tartan shawl, 
her eyes covered up with great blue spectacles, a mouth 
from ear to ear, showing teeth like the keys of a piano, her 
figure squeezed into a black gown like an umbrella case, 
emptying her bottle of wine while she reads "The 
Times." 

All Englishwomen, we may add, think the crevasses 
" very lovely " and the precipices " charming " ! 

Then the Germans. We meet almost as many of them 
as of English nowadays. They treat Switzerland rather 
like an annexed province ; wear straw hats covered with 
grey cloth, in the shape of a bombshell or a melon ; are 
always smoking something, — pipe or cigar ; very noisy in 
public places, railway carriages, and decks of steamers ; are 
perpetually discussing religious, social, or political ques- 
tions ; even on the Rigi, in presence of the rising sun, they 
talk about the new law about alcohol ; and knowing Switzer- 
land better than the Swiss, are thoroughly skilled in the 
science of travelling economically, — eating and drinking 
much and spending little. Merry fellows and good com- 
panions when they are neither nobles nor men of letters nor 



122 SWITZERLAND 

officers nor corporals nor lawyers nor Prussians of Prussia, 
nor have been covered with glory and laden with medals in 
1871. 

One particular type is the Jaegerite, so called from the 
name of Dr. Jaeger, who now counts more than fifty thou- 
sand disciples in Germany. The Jaegerite is entirely sworn 
to wool, as the vegetarian is to vegetables. Apart from 
woollen clothing there is no safety. The shirt is of wool ; 
the hat is of wool ; the necktie is of wool. A knitted woollen 
garment, something between an overall and a greatcoat, 
covers the back and the chest ; and the shoes and stockings 
are also of wool. The Jaegerite lets his hair grow long, 
and performs as few ablutions as possible, lest he should 
catch cold. 

The Prussian woman steps along erect, stiff, — her eye- 
glass at her eye, — like a corporal in woman's dress. These 
daughters of soldiers have a soldierly carriage, — no flexi- 
bility in the figure, no grace in the walk and bearing. They 
are like figures screwed to a wooden stand, with an iron 
rod running from head to heel. And what voices ! they 
might be produced by iron machinery, they are so harsh 
and grating. Their pale eyes have the cold brightness of 
two steel buttons on a uniform. 

Among the ladies, we must note also the little American 
girls of eighteen, who make the tour of Europe and of 
Switzerland in parties of two. But as they always travel 
in the compartments where there are gentlemen, they have 
the appearance of taking their amusement in parties of 
four. 

These different species of tourists are capable of sub- 
division into endless varieties. There is the grave, con- 
scientious tourist, who goes to the mountain with the piety 



TYPICAL TOURISTS 123 

and fervour of a priest going to the altar, who is fulfilling a 
mission, — a sacred function. There is the fancy tourist, 
who dresses and fits himself out like a fashion-plate ; the 
drawing-room tourist, who only looks at Switzerland from 
the decks of steamboats, from the windows of the railway 
carriage, or from the balcony of his hotel j the listless or 
dreamy tourist, who spends his days on the banks of the 
streams, stretched at full length in the soft, cool grass. Or 
again, there is the easy, philosophic tourist, laughing over 
his bad dinner or his uncomfortable bed, — always content, 
even when he knows he is being scandalously overcharged j 
and the man of progress, wearing a helmet of elder-pith, 
dressed in waterproof and carrying appliances of all kinds, 
for doing his own cooking, for lighting up the glaciers at 
night, for taking instantaneous photographs of the chamois, 
for crossing the crevasses and climbing perpendicular rocks. 
But the funniest of all is the half-crazy savant^ with his 
pockets filled with thermometers, with thermometers stuck 
in his hat, under his arms, in the band of his trousers, and 
in his garters ; he carries hydrometers, pedometers, instru- 
ments for measuring the height of the mountains and the 
depth of the rivers, plummets, hammers, microscopes, pin- 
cers, phials and labelled note-books in which he records 
how many panes of glass there are in the windows of the 
villages of the first zone, and if in the second zone the 
tails of the pigs hang down or curl up. 

Among all those varieties, the happiest is the cynical or 
eccentric tourist, who laughs at Mrs. Grundy. Absolutely 
at his ease, and scorning what may be thought of him, he 
behaves among other people just as he does in his own 
house. He lives and travels for himself alone, cares for 
nobody, eats and sleeps with the shepherds, lets his beard 



124 SWITZERLAND 

grow, returning to a state of nature; he defies all sorts of 
weather and danger, carves out a kingdom for himself, and 
wraps himself in a veritable royalty in the solitude of the 
mountains. 



BERNE 

ESTHER SINGLETON 

BERNE, the capital of the Canton of Berne and 
since 1848 of the Swiss Confederation, is one of 
the most beautiful cities in Europe. Its situation 
is ideal ; for it is framed by the imposing chains of the 
Bernese Alps and the Jura, and encircled by the winding 
arm of the Aar. The ornate spire of St. Vincent pierces 
the sky above the quaint old houses, abbeys, churches, 
fountains and monuments that attract the lover of both old 
and modern architecture, while beautiful gardens, terraces, 
forests and woods suggest innumerable pleasant walks and 
drives in the environs. Of late years Berne has stretched 
beyond the Aar and new bridges have been erected to lead 
across the river; but the traveller will doubtless prefer to 
linger in the ancient town that still justifies the words 
Goethe wrote to Frau von Stein in 1779: "It is the most 
beautiful town we have ever seen." 

Berne — the city of Bears — was founded in 1191 by Duke 
Berchtold V., of Zaehringen, vice-regent of the Emperor. 
In order to protect the smaller nobility from the greater 
lords, he built a wall and had a moat dug around his castle 
of Nydeck and its buildings. To this stronghold, he gave 
the name of Berne, because on this spot he had killed a 
bear. After Berchtold's death in 1218, this little colony 
grew in strength and boldness, and in 1288 defied the Em- 
peror Rodolphe of Hapsburg and vanquished him in 1291. 



126 SWITZERLAND 

In 1339, after Laupen, Berne formed herself into a coali- 
tion of princes and nobles, and in 1353 joined the Helve- 
tian Confederation. From that time onward, Berne in- 
creased in territory and power. 

On arriving at Berne, the traveller is astonished to find 
a mediaeval instead of a modern city, and, moreover, a city 
characteristically Swiss. The houses are built of a greyish- 
white sandstone, with high and projecting roofs that are 
somewhat heavy, but create the same pleasant impression 
as do the houses of Holland and Belgium. The most 
striking feature of Berne, however, is found in the arcades 
(^Lauben) consisting of low arches supported by heavy 
buttresses, that border both sides of the street. These 
were built in the days before the streets were paved, to pro- 
tect the foot passengers from bad weather and muddy 
paths. 

Old Berne stands on its rocky height like a fortress, below 
which stretches an undulating fertile plain from the foot of 
the Alps to the Jura and from it may be seen the splendid 
peaks of the Grimsel, Wetterhorn, Eiger, Jungfrau, Schreck- 
horn and Finster-aarhorn. The city is practically a 
peninsula, formed by the winding Aar, which is crossed on 
the south side by an extensive weir (the Schwelle) and which 
further down is crossed by seven bridges. First comes 
the Marzili-bridge, then the iron Kirchenfeld-bridge 
(built in 1883), the granite and sandstone Nydeck with its 
bold, middle arch, the lower Nydeck (oldest of all built in 
146 1), the Altenberg suspension bridge (for foot passengers 
only), the Kornhaus-bridge (built in 1898), and, lastly, the 
iron-trellised Railway-bridge, from which, as a rule, the 
traveller receives his first and last impressions of Berne. 

The Bernese always advise the traveller to view theii 



BERNE 127 

city from an eminence, and recommend the Schosshalde to 
the east, from the point where the Haspelgasse joins the 
Laubeckstrasse, or from the road which leads from Muris- 
falden to the Kirchenfeld ; the walk or drive from the 
Schaenzli to the Laubeckstrasse and thence through the 
Schosshaldenstrasse and to the Kirchenfeld. From these 
points Berne and the surrounding country are seen to great 
advantage. 

In whatever direction one looks, the tower of the Cathe- 
dral of St. Vincent strikes the eye ; and not far from it, but 
more to the west, shines the golden cross upon the cupola 
of the Federal Palace. 

The Cathedral of St. Vincent, which dominates the town 
with its spire 100 metres high, completed in 1896, was 
begun by Matthias Heinz, a son of one of the architects of 
the Strasburg Cathedral, the Ensingers, Stephan Abriigger 
and others. It is built in the Gothic style and is remark- 
able for its fine proportions and its boldness. The chief 
entrance has three doors, the central one of which is closed 
by an iron grille decorated with the coats-of-arms of the 
principal Bernese families. The western door is ornamented 
with fine sculpture, representing the Last Judgment, Christ 
and the Apostles, the Wise and Foolish Virgins and the 
Prophets, attributed to Erhard Kung, a Westphalian artist. 
The north entrance is known as the Schultheiss. The 
beautiful windows of the choir and the choir-stalls, richly 
carved in the Renaissance style (1517-1525), will attract 
the artist's attention. The mausoleum of Berchtold V. of 
Zaehringen and that of N. F. von Steiger, the last Schultheiss 
of the old regime of Berne (died 1799), bring the tourist 
once again into relation with the history of the town. The 
nave, which is supported by ten pillars, was once hung with 



128 SWITZERLAND 

banners taken from enemies in battle ; but the famous 
tapestries which decorated the tent of Charles the Bold at 
Granson and a splendid one representing the martyrdom of 
Samt Vincent of Saragossa are preserved in the Sacristy. 
These were removed in 1848 to make room for the great 
organ, with its fifty-six registers and 5,000 pipes. 

On the south side of the cathedral is the terrace known as 
the Plattform, a shady promenade, formerly a cemetery. 
Here are pavilions for refreshments and also a bronze 
statue to Berchtold V., modelled in 1847 ^7 ^^^ Bernese 
sculptor, Tscharner. He is accompanied by the famous 
bear that he is said to have killed on the day that Berne was 
founded. 

The bear, it may here be remarked, is an important figure 
in Berne. It appears on the coat-of-arms of the town, and 
is constantly seen carved in stone, modelled in bronze and 
even baked in gingerbread. Living bears have been kept in 
Berne since 1480, and no traveller fails to visit the bear-pit 
at the eastern end of the Nydeck-bridge. 

Among the numerous and very celebrated fountains, the 
most remarkable, perhaps, is that of the Ogre (the Kindli- 
fresser-brunnen), representing a seated Jew in the act of de- 
vouring a child, erected to commemorate a ritual murder at- 
tributed to the Jews in 1287. This is on the Kornhausplatz. 
In the Kramgasse, there are two : the Zahringer fountain 
(1542), representing a bear in armour, and the Samson 
fountain (1544). In the Marktgasse stands the Archer 
fountain (1527) j and in the Spitalgasse the Bag-piper foun- 
tain. The fountain in the court-yard of the Federal Palace 
is also highly esteemed for the allegorical figure of the city 
— Berna — modelled by the Bernese sculptor, R. Christen, 
cast in bronze in Munich, and erected in 1863. 



BERNE 1 29 

The equestrian statue of Rudolf von Erlach, the hero of 
the Battle of Laupen (1339), by Volmar (1848), on the 
Miinsterplatz ; that of Berchtold V. by Tscharner already 
mentioned j and that of Adrian van Bubenberg, the defender 
of Murten (1476) by Leu, on the Bubenbergplatz, are con- 
sidered masterpieces of their kind. 

Next in interest to the Cathedral is the Dominicans or 
Preachers Church in the Zeughausgasse, behind the Korn- 
haus, now used by the French Protestants. It is a Gothic 
edifice, built in 1 265-1 269. In this church Zwingli held 
the famous discussion in 1528 that decided the senate of 
Berne to introduce the reformed religion into the city. 
The walls were decorated in the Sixteenth Century by 
Niholas Manuel, a Bernese painter, with forty-six large 
frescos representing the Dance of Death. 

The old Dominican cloister, of which a wing remains, 
was often used as an inn by princes. TheNydeck-Church 
in the Nydeckgasse, built in 1494 on the site of the Castle 
of Nydeck, is also worthy of a visit. The old clock tower 
CZeitglockenthurm) at the western end of the Kramgasse was 
originally a gate of the town. It was built in the Fifteenth 
Century and is most picturesque. An immense dial is en- 
closed in the face of the tower and near it a most ingenious 
mechanism which all visitors love to watch. Just before 
the hour, a wooden cock beats its wings and crows. A 
little Jack of the clock-house strikes the hour with a 
hammer on a bell, whereupon a number of bears in grotesque 
attitudes pass before a mannikin who is seated on a throne 
and who lifts and lowers his sceptre to mark the number of 
hours. 

Two other gates of the old walls only remain : the 
Kafigthurm, or prison-tower, at the western end of the 



130 SWITZERLAND 

Marktgasse, dating in its present form from the Seventeenth 
Century ; and the Aarziele, or Mintgate, near the Mint- 
terrace, erected in 1793 in place of an older gate. 

The Rathaus, or Town Hall, built in 1404-1416 and 
restored in 1862, is chiefly remarkable for its staircase, 
frieze and interior carvings. The facade is decorated with 
the arms of the prefectures of the Canton. 

The Federal Palace, or Bundeshaus, in the Bundesgasse, 
built in 1852-1857, was the gift of Berne to the Swiss Con- 
federation. It consists of three buildings : the Western 
Wing, the Eastern Wing and the Central Building, called 
House of Parliament. 

The town-library in the Kesslergasse, established in 
1548, contains about 100,000 books and more than 3,000 
valuable manuscripts, many of which were taken from the 
convents and monasteries that were suppressed by the Refor- 
mation. The Federal Library, near the Helvetiaplatz, also 
contains about 100,000 volumes and other rich collections. 
The Historical Museum on the Kirchenfeld, opened in 
1895, contains among other treasures many fine Gobelin 
tapestries, trophies of the Battle of Granson, ancient gold- 
smiths' work, remains of the lake-dwellers, cups of the 
Bernese guilds and models of ancient rooms, etc. 

Examples of Swiss arts and crafts are exhibited at the 
Museum in the Kornhaus, on the Kornhaus-platz, and rich 
mineral, paleontological and zoological collections may be 
seen in the Natural History Museum. 

The Botanical Garden in the Rabbenthal, on the right 
bank of the Aar, should be visited if only for the sake of 
the alpine plants. 

From the Gurten, a beautiful view Is obtained of the 
Alps and Jura with the intervening plains dotted with vil 



BERNE 131 

lages, churches, lakes and woods ; and beautiful views and 
romantic walks are found in the Dashlhoelzli, a pretty wood 
on the Kirchenfeld and in the Bremgartenwald, a larger 
forest on the Laenggass-quarter, 



THE LAKE OF THUN 

T, G, BONNET 

OUR wanderings are drawing to an end. Swiftly, 
the boat bears us on over the blue Lake of Thun, 
through the "gates of the hills." On one side 
rise steep ridges, rearing bare craggy summits above long 
slopes of forest and pasture, furrowed by narrow ravines ; 
on the other is yet a loftier mountain mass. This extends 
along the whole length of the southern shore, and stretches 
away beyond the great green pyramid of the Niesen, between 
the Kanderthal and Simmenthal, to the rocky head of the 
Stockhorn. We have thus here at the end the same variety 
of scenery which we found at the beginning of our journey, 
on the Lake of Lucerne. The limestone ranges — which 
form the mid-Alpine district — cross the Lake of Thun diag- 
onally, so that on the northern shore, at its extremity, we 
have once more the rolling hills of sandstone and hardened 
gravel from which we parted in the neighbourhood of 
Lucerne. Here the fir is replaced by the vine, the pasture 
by the cornfield — in a word, the Alps by the lowlands. 
From the upper part of the lake the Oberland peaks now 
and again afford us parting glimpses, and the Schilthorn's 
snowy cap recalls pleasant memories of the hours passed on 
that lofty watch-tower. One peak, indeed, the Schreck- 
horn, which hitherto has rarely shown itself in its full 
majesty, now makes amends ; and as we cross the lake 
from shore to shore, is revealed, rising pinnacle above pinnacle, 



THE LAKE OF THUN 133 

beyond the folding lines of the nearer mountains, forming 
one of the most perfect pictures that I have seen in the 
whole range of the Alps. 

Then, when all too soon this vision has been shut out, 
new peaks are disclosed, rising above the line of wooded 
hills that extend along a considerable portion of the southern 
shore. These belong to a region of which we have hitherto 
only now and then caught a glimpse from some command- 
ing height, the region above the valleys descending to the 
lower end of the Lake of Thun. They fall, indeed, con- 
siderably short of the elevation attained by the peaks further 
east, and are less striking in outline ; but, perhaps, all the 
more for that, harmonize well with the less rugged scenery 
of the neighbourhood of Thun. The pyramidal mountain 
on the right is the Niesen, and the snowy ridge above the 
valley is the Blumlis Alp, the highest of whose peaks is a 
little more than twelve thousand feet above the sea. It is 
the first example of a type of mountain very common in 
this western district, a great limestone block, with mag- 
nificent precipices on both sides, capped by snow-fields and 
glaciers, and terminated by several peaks of nearly equal 
height. It owes its name to another of those legends of 
pride going before a fall, and a haughty spirit before de- 
struction. Here the " Senn " had built for himself a stair- 
case of cheeses, and had insolently driven away from his 
door the parents of a damsel whom he had deeply wronged. 
During the next night a fearful storm arose, and when the 
morning broke, the '^ flowery alp " lay deep under snow 
and glacier. 

The shores of Thun are unusually rich in objects of in- 
terest both natural and artificial. Many of these centre 
about the Justishal, a narrow glen on the northern shore, 



134 SWITZERLAND 

the first of those which lie among the mid-Alpine ranges. 
Under the cliff, high up on its right bank, is one of those 
singular caves called glacieres^ which are occasionally found 
in the limestone districts of the Alps and Jura. They are 
natural ice-houses, the floor being often covered with a mass 
of ice, and the walls and roof hung with a drapery of the 
same. This cave is called the Schafloch ; it can be reached 
either from the glen below or by a very beautiful walk over 
the shoulder of the cliffs beneath which it lies. It is about 
five thousand eight hundred feet above the sea, and thus, 
like all the others, many of which occur at a much lower 
level, is far beneath the limit of perpetual snow. A fine 
natural doorway, some eight yards high and eleven wide, 
gives entrance to the cave, the floor of which soon begins 
to descend gradually. Ice at first appears sparsely, forming 
stalagmitic patches on the fallen blocks which strew the 
ground, but when we reach a part where the light of day 
has faded away it occurs in large quantities ; it streams 
down the rocky walls in transparent sheets, and hangs in 
clustering stalactites from the roof. Beneath these, stalag- 
mitic masses rise up from the floor; and in one instance 
they had united with the pendents above, so as to form a 
column of purest ice ; the intervening spaces also become 
covered with ice, which soon extends from side to side in 
an unbroken sheet. At last the whole mass shelves sud- 
denly downwards at a steep inclination, and appears to 
plunge into the heart of the earth. This appearance of an 
unfathomable abyss is, however, illusory, for the slope comes 
to an end a few dozen feet below, and the cave itself does 
not extend much further. 

It is worth a visit, if only for the magnificent views which 
are obtained during the walk j and the peak of the Jungfrau 



THE LAKE OF THUN 135 

itself may be seen from within the rocky entrance of the 
cave like a picture in a frame. On the occasion of my visit 
the Oberland mountains were unusually magnificent. The 
morning at first was brilliantly fine and intensely hot, so 
that the snow fairly glistened in the sun ; then the sky to 
the south gradually grew murky and the peaks were slowly 
blotted out by a cloud of inky blackness which was soon 
riven by frequent flashes of lightning. Then the storm 
burst upon us, with a deluge of hail and rain, and sharp rat- 
tling peals of thunder. In an hour or two this rolled off to 
the north, and again the peaks broke forth from the eddying 
vapours, which slowly melted away till once more all was 
clear. 

The shores of the Thiiner See were among the spots 
where the Gospel was first proclaimed, and it is a curious 
circumstance how many among the noblest band of Alpine 
travellers came from our own shores. St. Lucius, the apos- 
tle of the Grisons ; St. Fridolin, of Glarus ; St. Gall, of 
the district which now bears his name ; and St. Beatus, of 
the valley of the Aar, all were Britons. 

Beatus fixed his residence in a cave at the mouth of the 
Justishal. Here he spent his life gathering converts from 
the wild tribes who then inhabited the district, and winning 
their hearts by deeds of mercy and by miracles. One of 
the first of these, so the story runs, was the destruction of 
a dragon which had taken up its abode in the cave after- 
wards occupied by the saint, whence it issued forth to rav- 
age the neighbourhood. Beatus encountered it, and after a 
severe struggle, in which the dragon's fire and venom were 
powerless against the saint's prayers, drove it into the lake, 
where it disappeared forever. In this cave the saint at last 
died, full of years, and was buried at its mouth by his 



136 SWITZERLAND 

scholar and friend, Achates. The spot was held in affec- 
tionate remembrance by the inhabitants of the neighbour- 
hood, and centuries later, when the fashion of pilgrimages 
began to prevail, the monks of Interlaken converted the 
cave into a chapel and erected hard by a shelter for visitors. 
Miracles, of course, were not lacking, the reputation of the 
place increased, and offerings came in apace. So highly es- 
teemed was it, that in the middle of the Fifteenth Century, 
during a time of pestilence, the Senate of Berne, in a body, 
went on a pilgrimage thither. As might be expected, abuses 
gradually crept in, and the spirit of simple faith gave place 
to that which prevails at the " tables of the money changers, 
and the seats of those who sell doves." The Reformation 
took place, Berne became a Protestant Canton, and it was 
determined to put a stop to the pilgrimages. By way of an 
effectual remedy, the remains of the saint were exhumed, 
and conveyed to Innsbruck, and the mouth of the cave was 
closed by a wall. The stream was thus diverted, though 
still occasionally a solitary pilgrim may be seen at the lonely 
spot. Except then, or when some passing shower drives 
the goatherd thither to shelter his flock, the cave is now un- 
tenanted. Chapel, and all that man had built, have fallen 
down, and only a few fragments of wall or foundation stones 
remain to mark the once busy scene. 

But while we are dreaming on the changes that this lake 
has seen since first the savage tribes built their log-huts on 
piles among its shallows, the steamer is cleaving its swift 
way through the water. We hasten on by brown houses, 
nestling among vine leaves and walnut-trees, in gardens 
bright with many-coloured flowers, by the fortress of Spiez, 
once a possession of the Dukes of Burgundy ; by the 
battlemented walls of Knightly Oberhofen, where, in feudal 



THE LAKE OF THUN 137 

times, powerful barons ruled, famed in Swiss history as the 
comrades of Eschenbach, Brundis, and ErJach j by lofty 
Sigriswyl and all the charming country houses with their 
shady alleys and wooded meadows. The towers of Thun 
and the gabled houses rise higher above the lake as the pros- 
pect around and beyond them widens out ; a few minutes 
more and we step upon the pier, and the last stage of our 
Alpine journey is over. Here, then, let us pause for a 
night to watch from the churchyard wall the sunset colours 
fading from Blumeis Alp, and take one last longing look at 
this earthly Paradise. To-morrow the Alps will fade away 
like a purple cloud in the distance; and in a few days more, 
amid the familiar daily round, our wanderings among the 
mountains will seem like a part of another life, or as a 
pleasant dream that is past. 



INTERLAKEN 

r, G, BONNET 

PLACES like Interlaken are a delight to one, an 
abomination to another class of tourists. To those 
who only go to the Alps because it is " the thing " 
to do, it is the first j to those who are only happy on a 
glacier, it is the second. Thus the town is alternately 
praised and condemned, according to the humour of the 
speaker. Let us try to sum up impartially its merits and 
demerits. It is, indeed, a place of one view, but that is 
among the most beautiful of its kind in the Alps; of one 
street, but that is shaded by magnificent trees ; its hotels are 
" palatial " ; but it must be owned that they are very com- 
fortable and by no means exorbitant in their prices ; it is 
crowded with heavy fathers and matrons a la Madame 
Grundy^ with vapid dandies, wearing lacquered boots and 
glass in eye, and with chattering coquettes, tottering along 
on high heels, and bedizened with the last folly of fashion ; 
but it is not difficult to get out of their way ; — in a word, it 
has a good many drawbacks and not a few advantages. Of 
the former, the most serious are that, as it stands upon a flat 
delta, here and there inclined to be marshy, in a rather nar- 
row valley with steep mountains on either side, the air is 
apt to be hot, stuffy, and enervating ; and a considerable 
distance of level, dusty road has to be traversed before either 
of the lakes can be reached, or any excursion of interest 




< 

•— ) 

< 



INTERLAKEN 139 

undertaken ; unless the hills to the north of the town be 
climbed, and here the ascent is too rapid for excursions in 
warm weather. In fact, it is an Alpine Capua ; but, though 
regarding all such places severely, as becomes a mountaineer, 
I must confess to admitting the plea of extenuating circum- 
stances in the case of Interlaken. Perhaps gratitude has 
something to do with it ; for on my first visit I was detained 
there for three days by incessant rain ; and found that I did 
not consider life a mistake, as I have been tempted to do 
under similar circumstances in a mountain auherge. This 
may be thankfulness for small mercies ; but is not gratitude 
due even for these ? Again, I cannot forget certain even- 
ings spent, when travelling with a companion who required 
rest, under the walnut trees in front of our hotel, while the 
Jungfrau's snows slowly changed from the rosy tints of 
sunset to the silver gleam of moonlight. Thus, often, as 
one may be provoked " to make painful comparisons be- 
tween the condition of Dr. Guggenbuhl's patients on the 
Abendberg," and that of numerous visitors, of whom "the 
gentler sex find constant occupation in the display of city 
finery, while the less fortunate male idlers are too often re- 
duced to a condition of utter vacuity," I cannot but advise 
every one who visits the Oberland to spend a day or two of 
rest at Interlaken ; promising them that unless things have 
changed since I was there, they will find some of the best 
hotels and shops (especially for wood carving) in Switzer- 
land, with a reasonable number of excursions, which will be 
pleasant enough to those who do not mind early rising. 

Visitors lounge under the trees in the hotel gardens, 
or stroll along the street under the shade of the great 
walnut avenue, a mile in length ; new arrivals on foot or 
horseback are coming from the mountains ; carriages are 



140 SWITZERLAND 

bringing their loads from the lake steamers; peasants, 
women and children, are busy with their baskets of wares 
and fruits ; the flowers are gay in the gardens, the leaves 
thick on the trees, the sun is shining brightly in the sky. 

We look up the Lauterbrunnen Valley ; the great clifF 
on the right hand is part of the range down which the 
Staubbach is precipitated j the wooded hill above the house 
in the corner is the Klein-rugen, an almost isolated mound, 
from which beautiful views of the neighbourhood are 
obtained. On the right are the broken hills below the 
Schienige Platte, another favourite but longer excursion ; 
and in the middle is the Jungfrau, no longer masked by 
intervening buttresses, but seen in its true proportions, and 
contrasting beautifully with the level meadows and low- 
land foliage of the foreground. 

From Interlaken the contours, owing to the greater dis- 
tance, are far more harmonious. The sharp summit cone 
rises well above the flatter edge of the Wengern Jungfrau. 
To the right of this is the snowy dome of the Silberhorn, 
with the Giessen Glacier, from which a long spur runs out 
to the left, terminating in the Schneehorn, — the dark, tri- 
angular clifF just above one of the trees. Between this 
spur and the main ridge of the mountain lies a great snow 
basin, which feeds the Guggi Glacier. 

The Jungfrau, as might be expected from its conspicuous 
position and beautiful form, was one of the earliest among 
the Oberland peaks to attract the attention of adventurous 
climbers. The first ascent was accomplished in the year 
1811, by the Messrs. Meyer of Aarau, from the Aletsch 
Glacier; and for many years the summit of the mountain 
was always attained from the south. The course usually 
adopted was to climb to a gap called the Col du Roththal, 



INTERLAKEN 141 

south of the summit, in the main ridge, and then turn to the 
right. 

In 1864, a point near this gap was reached from the head 
of the Lauterbrunnen Valley by Messrs. Grove, Macdon- 
ald, and L. Stephen, with the Andereggs and Bischof. The 
rocks are steep and difficult on this side; and the fatal acci- 
dent caused by the fall of an avalanche, when three Swiss 
lost their lives, is not likely to render this a favourite line of 
ascent. 

One of the party alone escaped, who thus describes his 
sufferings : — " Suddenly an avalanche from above fell 
straight upon us. When I returned to consciousness, I 
found myself on a rock, whither I had been hurled by the 
avalanche, the mass of which had carried away my com- 
panions. The rope by which we were fastened must have 
been rent asunder, otherwise I should have been hurried 
to sudden destruction as well as the others. A loud cry 
from all of us — then silence ; and of my unfortunate com- 
panions I saw and heard no more. A second avalanche 
passed by me without injury. I remained safe on my rock, 
where I also passed the night horror-struck. Next day I 
succeeded in descending to the " Clubhiitte " in the Roth- 
thai, where I remained the night with my feet frozen. A 
little chocolate, some hard cheese-rind and cold water, were 
my only nourishment during these days. On Friday, pain- 
fully and with bare feet, for they could no longer endure 
the pressure of shoes, I crawled a little further to the Roth- 
thal Glacier. On Saturday I managed to leave the Roth- 
thal ; and to-day (Sunday) I came, with unspeakable toil, 
to the Stufenstein Alp." 

Finally in the summer of 1865, Sir G. Young and Mr. 
H. B. George, led by Christian Aimer and J. Baumann, 



142 SWITZERLAND 

reached the summit from the Wengern Alp. Crossing the 
Guggi Glacier, they spent the night on the rocks of the 
Schneehorn ; and then, passing behind the spur of which 
mention was made above, gained, after some difficulty, a 
gap between the Silberhorn and the Wengern Jungfrau. 
A ridge, at first narrow and difficult, but gradually widen- 
ing out into easy slopes of snow and at last becoming 
almost a plateau, led them to the latter point, up to that 
time unclimbed, and from it the true summit was easily 
reached. The expedition, since then, has been several 
times repeated, and though laborious, does not seem unu- 
sually difficult to practised travellers with competent guides. 
Interlaken was a place of some importance in the Middle 
Ages by reason of a large convent which was founded in the 
year 1133, by Baron Seilger of Oberhofen, for monks of 
the Augustinian order; to this was, not long after, added a 
nunnery. These religious houses soon became rich and 
powerful, and under protection of an agreement with the 
city of Berne, they extended their authority over the neigh- 
bouring valleys, to Lauterbrunnen, Grindelwald, and the 
Haslithal. As they waxed rich they waxed wanton ; 
abuses of their authority led to rebellions among their vas- 
sals ; abuses of another kind produced a general scandal. 
Thus a canker was at the heart of the tree while its 
branches were spreading ; and while their power seemed to 
be extending over almost the whole Oberland, the fall was 
nigh at hand. The relations of the two houses became so 
gross, that not only did the Bishop of Lausanne and the 
Council of Basle order investigation to be made, but the 
Pope himself intervened, and finally, in the year 1488, sup- 
pressed the nunnery as a " sink of wantonness " ; the vas- 
sals, encouraged by the growing dissatisfaction, entered into 



INTERLAKEN 143 

a league with Unterwalden, and resisted the authority 
of the monks ; and, at last, when the Reformed religion 
prevailed, the monastery was suppressed, in the year 1528, 
and its revenues devoted to founding an asylum for idiots 
and for the poor. The church, of which the choir and 
tower only remain, is now used by the English and Ameri- 
cans in their Sunday services. It is not remarkable for 
architectural beauty, of which there is but little, as a rule, 
in any of the ecclesiastical, or indeed other, buildings in the 
Alps. These are generally plain, simple and almost 
severe ; the cathedral at Coire being the only one of any 
grandeur that I can remember among the Swiss mountains. 
Some of the later structures in various Renaissance styles 
are more pretentious ; but these are generally tawdry and 
deceitful in ornamentation. 



THE OESCHINEN SEE AND THE 
GEMMI PASS 



A 



STDNET HODGES 

T Thun I caught the afternoon boat for Interlaken in 
which I proceeded as far as Spiez. Here I landed, 
and, shouldering my knapsack, set out with the 
virtuous intention of walking to Frutigen that evening. My 
way lay under the magnificent slope of the Niesen, that 
beautiful mountain which overhangs the Lake of Thun, 
and which is seen to such especial advantage from the 
neighbourhood of Interlaken. 

I had not gone more than a mile or two when I was 
overtaken by an omnibus which plies between Thun and 
Frutigen. It occurred to me that if I took advantage of 
the conveyance as far as the latter place, I might manage 
to get a trap on to Kandersteg the same night, and thus be 
enabled to reach the main object of my journey — the 
GEschinen See — early the next morning. 

We arrived at Frutigen at about six o'clock. There I 
was fortunate enough to find the proprietor of the Bear 
Inn, at Kandersteg, about to start in a return carriage. I 
therefore arranged to accompany him. 

The night was very fine. As we drew near Kandersteg 
the moon came up over the magnificent snows of the Weiss- 
Frau, which closed the valley to the left. Wonderful rays 
of silver light cast their long arms across the silent mists, 
and weird shadows from the intervening mountain crags 
here and there enwrapped our path in gloom. 



THE OESCHINEN SEE 145 

While walking up a long hill to ease the horse, I overtook 
a young German, who was also pursuing his way to Kan- 
dersteg. We fell into conversation, and while skirting the 
banks of the Kander I noticed that peculiar effect of the 
water appearing to run up-hill, which I had once or twice 
before observed in Switzerland. We were, of course, 
meeting the stream, which was here flowing over a com- 
paratively level bed. I wondered if my companion would 
notice the effect, and waited to see. Presently he ex- 
claimed, " The water is running up-hill ! " and paused in 
amazement. I told him I had seen the same thing while 
journeying to Chamouni one night, and also in the Lauter- 
brunnen Valley. We vainly endeavoured to account for it, 
and could only conclude that it was in some way referable 
to the fact that the extreme height of the surrounding 
mountains confuses to some extent one's idea of the hori- 
zontal line. 

As I was travelling with mine host of the Bear — a most 
intelligent man, who had spent some years in England — I, 
of course, took up my quarters at that hotel, which lies 
close under the slope of the Gemmi. The morning fol- 
lowing my arrival was magnificent. Looking from my 
window soon after sunrise, the bare rocky summit of the 
Gellihorn was before me, its sharp peak, tinted with the 
rosy light, soaring into the pure blue ether. It is impossible 
to be a laggard in Switzerland. The crimson tint of morn- 
ing on the mountain tops, the tinkle of the cattle-bells, the 
loud voices of the hurrying streams, and, above all, the fresh 
pure scent of the pine forests all combine to call one forth, 
hours before the dwellers in cities open their eyes to the 
dull, smoky light. By six o'clock, therefore, I was work- 
ing rapidly up the GEschinen Thai, which runs eastward 



146 SWITZERLAND 

from the valley of the Kander, at about a mile from the 
Bear Hotel. 

Exquisite views opened on every side as my path rose 
higher and higher. Behind me was Kandersteg, with its 
green pastures and rich brown chalets. In front was the 
glorious Weiss-Frau, crowned with everlasting snows. To 
the right in a deep gorge, the stream from the CEschinen 
See rushed and tumbled over its rocky bed with a low 
thunder, which came up to me in a clear monotone through 
the still air. Away across the stream to the right, a thin 
cascade came over a buttress of the Doldenhorn, dropping 
a thousand feet perpendicularly into the gorge below. 

As I ascended the last slope and approached the point 
from which I expected to get my first view of the lake, I 
felt some anxiety as to the result. Having come so far al- 
most exclusively to see it, the disappointment would have 
been great had it failed to come up to my anticipations. 
My anxiety proved to be groundless. Never in my life 
had I looked upon a more wondrous scene than that which 
lay before me on surmounting the summit of the path. In 
the immediate foreground was a stretch of rich grass, inter- 
mingled with grey rocks and riven stumps of pines. A lit- 
tle to the left the broken ground rose abruptly to a pine 
forest, which stretched for a thousand feet up the mountain- 
side. A few solitary trees — out-lying pickets of the main 
body as it were — rose on the other side of the grassy fore- 
ground, and beyond these lay the lake itself, locked in the 
arms of the mighty mountains, as still as a sleeping child. 
The unruffled surface was of that exquisite blue which we 
get in the hedge-sparrow's egg, and sometimes in the even- 
ing sky. Beyond its glassy surface was a scene of splendour 
which held one breathless. The precipices and snows of 



THE OESCHINEN SEE 147 

the Weiss-Frau soared upwards, in almost interminable 
slopes and crags, to the height of twelve thousand feet. 
Glaciers stretched their mighty arms far down the dim blue 
gorges, and from their beds of glistening ice, streams, like 
silver threads, wound downwards to the precipices which 
overhung the lake, and then dropped in one straight plunge 
into its placid waters. To the right, pines and bluffs and 
slopes of grass stretched upwards to the Doldenhorn. To 
the left, the purple crags above the pine-forest quite shut in 
the view. It was an amphitheatre of wonder and beauty, 
with the lovely lake sleeping in the midst. There was not 
a sight or sound of man to disturb the magical solitude of 
the spot. One seemed to be locked in the very bosom of 
the mountains; to be in actual intercourse with the mighty 
mysteries of nature which surrounded one on every side. 

It was long before I could bring myself to the seemingly 
prosaic task of endeavouring to carry away some slight rec- 
ord of the spot. The whole scene was so awe-inspiring, 
so overwhelming, that it seemed almost like desecration to 
attempt it. The hours flew by in contemplation of the 
lovely scene, and the afternoon sun was declining before I 
commenced the descent. 

I left the CEschinen See with great reluctance. It dwells 
in my memory as one of the most enchanting spots it was 
ever my lot to behold. It is but little invaded by tourists. 
Only one party arrived during the day, and they soon de- 
parted, leaving me to my task, and to the companionship 
of the peasant in charge of the cattle in the high pastures, 
who came and watched me as I worked, and was put into a 
seventh heaven of delight at being presented with a franc 
in return for some delicious milk which he brought me 
from a chalet^ hidden somewhere up among the pines. 



148 SWITZERLAND 

I secured another slight sketch on my way back to 
Kandersteg, bringing in the cascade to the right. Before 
it was finished, however, down came the rain from some 
huge thunder-clouds, which had been long threatening over- 
head. I sought shelter beneath a broad-eaved chalet^ and 
for upwards of half an hour stood and watched a thunder- 
storm such as I have never seen equalled elsewhere. The 
heavens were lit up by such ruddy lightning that the moun- 
tains seemed transformed to volcanoes. At times I was 
literally enveloped in sheets of fire, while the thunder 
shook the very earth. Never did I realize so forcibly that 
grand line of Homer's : 

** Heaven opened, roared the mountains, thundered all the 
ground." 

We were away early next morning. The weather was 
glorious, and that indescribable freshness and beauty which 
pertains to these mountain-heights was over everything. 
We wound up through the delicious pine forest for an hour 
or more and then reached the almost level pathway which 
skirts the glorious Gasternthal. The valley lay far below, 
with the silver Kander winding through it for miles. At 
the further end rose the snows of the Tschingel glacier, 
and on either side the vast walls of rock revealed a torn 
and twisted stratification most wonderful to behold. Pres- 
ently the Altels, with their pure summits of snow, came 
into view, and then the dark pyramid of the Rinderhorn. 
We made a two hours' halt here for the purpose of sketch- 
ing, and then pursued our way steadily up the high pastures 
until we reached the inn of Schwarenbach, 6,778 feet above 
the sea. 



THE OESCHINEN SEE 149 

After a rest of half an hour, we proceeded on our way 
towards the summit. Patches of snow now began to ap- 
pear, and here and there the purple gentian raised its ex- 
quisite bells from its snowy bed. We skirted the banks of 
the melancholy Daubensee, and in a short time stood on 
the highest point of the pass. 

There is no greater surprise in all Switzerland than that 
which awaits the tourist on the summit of the Gemmi. 
The ascent from the north is comparatively gradual, but on 
the south side the pass drops sheer down some thousand 
feet, almost perpendicularly. The village of Leukerbad 
lies at a giddy depth below. You fancy you could throw a 
stone on to its roofs. The bare precipices of the Dauben- 
horn rise to the right. Away to the left lies the Torrent- 
horn and the pastures about Albinen, while far away in 
front, one may look for the glorious range of the Pennine 
Alps beyond the Rhone Valley. We were, however, 
doomed to disappointment in this respect, for gathering 
clouds rendered them only just dimly visible for a few mo- 
ments, and then a storm, which had been threatening for 
some time, broke upon us with indescribable fury. 

A thunder-storm on the summit of the Gemmi is a thing 
to be remembered for a lifetime. We found shelter in the 
little stone hut just below the highest point of the pass, 
p'or upwards of an hour we stood there watching the light- 
ning far below us, and listening to the reverberations of the 
thunder among those magnificent crags. By-and-by the 
storm cleared, and was succeeded by a splendid rainbow, 
which spread an almost perfect circle before our astonished 
gaze. As it arched to the left, its curve corresponded ex- 
actly to the curve of the rocky pinnacle of the Rinderhorn, 
which it transformed to a vivid opal of almost unimaginable 



ISO SWITZERLAND 

beauty. The rain-clouds cleared, and, as the darkness was 
coming on apace, we hastened our way down the precipitous 
pathway, which is here cut in the perpendicular face of the 
rock. This pathway is one of the marvels of Switzerland. 
In places, one portion of it actually overhangs another, and, 
from the abrupt angles, you may look down thousands of 
feet into the gloomy gorges below. 

I was determined, if possible, to see the view of the 
Pennine Alps from the summit. The next morning, there- 
fore, I started from Leukerbad before six, and made my 
way to the foot of the ascent. The weather was glorious ; 
but even at this hour the sun was beating with unusual 
power on the southern face of the rocks. It was warm 
work surmounting the steep and apparently interminable 
zig-zags, but I stuck to my self-imposed task, and at eight 
o'clock stood on the highest point, with the keen mountain 
air playing on my heated forehead, and a prospect of un- 
surpassable beauty before me. My whole range of the 
central Alps was visible, including the giant pyramid of the 
Matterhorn. The clear air was palpitating in the sunny 
radiance. The cool breeze from the Lammeren glacier, 
close to me on the right, acted like a refreshing draught, 
and stretching myself on the short grass, I enjoyed, in con- 
templating the wondrous scene before me, half an hour of 
the purest delight the world can give. 



LUCERNE 

T. G. BONNET 

WE are speeding on through rich pastoral country. 
That rounded mass is surely the Rigi ; that 
serrated ridge is Pilatus ; there is the snowy 
cap of the Titlis ; there a glimpse of the more distant Ober- 
land summits; the mountain barrier becomes more and 
more distinct ; we dash along by the side of a rushing 
river; villas and houses thicken, and we are at Lucerne. 

There, flashing in the afternoon sun, is the lake, a sheet 
of blue, like another heaven ; there are quaint old towers 
climbing up the vine-clad hills, and there the great hotels. 
Certainly the town has lost much since we first knew it, 
some fifteen years ago. True, the shops are better furnished 
now than then, and the hotels are more palatial ; but the 
spick-and-span look that Is creeping over Lucerne, is, not- 
withstanding its material advantages, a poor substitute to 
an artist's eye for the mediaeval aspect which once pervaded 
the whole. We miss the bits of wall, a tower or two, and 
many a quaint old house, and feel that smart folks crowd- 
ing to a table cfhote in a grand salle a manger^ are an unsatis- 
factory substitute. Let us go to see the Lion ; that is not 
changed ; there is even a modern imitation of the original 
Swiss guard, who will try every art to make you his prey. 
There is a big wood-carving shop and not a few other in- 
congruities to give a decided cockney flavour to the place ; 



152 SWITZERLAND 

and a little pond which, when we saw it last, was very 
dank and ill-smelling j but, for all that, the monument is a 
grand conception, and worthy of its dedication, " Helvetiorum 
fidei et virtutiJ" 

But to my mind there are some things in Lucerne even 
better than the Lion, and these are the bridges, with their 
sturdy timbers and quaint pictures. What a grim humour 
it was, as Ruskin well observes, to choose the Dance of 
Death as a subject here. What a key-note to strike among 
all the harmonies of the scene. There is the lake, spread 
like a mirror, with the sunlight flashing like a shower of 
stars on its rippling surface. There rise the mountain bar- 
riers, monuments of struggles bravely waged for freedom, 
of acres gained by patient toil for corn field and vineyard ; 
their slopes dotted with chalets ; the outworks to protect the 
territory recovered from the waste ; here is the bright and 
busy town, its walls and towers at once a safeguard and an 
adornment ; the clear Reuss sweeping swiftly by, turning 
as it passes the clattering water-wheels ; all telling of a strug- 
gle, indeed, but one in which the victory has been won by 
man's strength and endurance ; yet overhead, on every 
beam, in varied form is inscribed, " Memento mori" and the 
timber from the roof cries out, "Vanity of vanities." 
There the reveller rises from the table ; Death feigns to 
support his reeling steps, while he lays an icy finger on his 
heart. Here the merchant among his packages presents 
his bill-of-lading to Death, while another skeleton smooths 
a bale into the shape of a tombstone. At the hunt, at the 
dance, at the marriage feast ; by the monarch's side, by the 
ploughman's share, by the gardener as he plants, by the 
harvestman as he reaps, by the clockmaker as he marks the 
flight of time, by the architect as he builds, by the student 





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LUCERNE 153 

and the sage, by the priest and the monarch — Death is 
everywhere. Now he plays the triangle to the infant, now 
leans over the couch of the aged man, now embraces the 
bride, now plunges his sword into the warrior's heart. 
Perhaps these Lucerners were, after all, not so far wrong. 
There is a reverse side to the whole scene around ; free- 
dom has been won by self-sacrifice, and Arnold von Win- 
kelried is but a type of many a hero, now forgotten ; how 
many a generation has planted trees to profit a coming age 
on yon slopes above which rise the eternal hills j even the 
very Reuss, as it sweeps along in the fullness of its strength, 
takes up the poet's strains, " Men may come and men may 
go, but I go on forever." The sun is setting, the night is 
at hand, we must go home. But he will rise to-morrow. 

Before starting upon our journey, let us attempt to sketch 
the general features of the Lake of Lucerne, and glance at 
its connexion with Swiss history. As it is one of the most 
beautiful, so it is one of the most remarkable of the Alpine 
lakes in form. This at first appears so irregular, that no 
comparison readily suggests itself as an aid to description. 
On closer examination this apparent complexity to some 
extent disappears, and the lake is seen to bear a close rela- 
tion to the valley systems of the district. These, as is 
usually the case, run in two directions roughly at right 
angles to each other; the one nearly parallel, the other 
nearly perpendicular, to the outcrop of the strata. Thus 
the famous head of the lake — or Bay of Uri as it is often 
called — is a prolongation of the deep narrow valley of the 
Reuss, which, in issuing from the defiles of crystalline rock 
in the St. Gotthard chain, has sawn a way through the folds 
of thick limestone by which they are fringed. About half- 
a-dozen miles from Fluelen, the Muotta river comes in 



154 SWITZERLAND 

from the east, and a prolongation of its valley forms the 
next reach of the lake. This appears formerly to have ex- 
tended much further west than it now does, past the open- 
ing of the Engelberger Aa, to the valley descending from the 
Brunig pass. In that time the wooded mass of the Biir- 
genstock, which is practically a prolongation of the ridge of 
Pilatus, must have risen as an island from the lake ; now it 
is united to the south shore of the delta of the Engelberger 
Aa. The main body of the lake passes to the east of the 
Biirgenstock through a short narrow pass, and enters an- 
other reach, parallel to that which it has just left, between 
the sharp ridge of that mountain and the massive cliffs of 
the Rigi. This remaining part of the lake lies in the more 
open country, and is an irregular cross in shape ; the one 
bar lying roughly in the line already described and leading 
to Lucerne, where the Reuss issues from the lake ; the 
other in the line of the valley already mentioned as descend- 
ing from the Brunig pass. The northern arm of this has 
of course no outlet j but is separated by low hills from the 
Lake of Zug. Thus, few lakes afford a greater variety of 
scenery ; for at the one end we are almost in the heart of 
the Alps, at the other we are in the lowland districts of 
Switzerland. 

As the cradle of Swiss freedom, the Lake of the Four 
Forest Cantons has no less interest for the historian. Its 
shores are sacred in the annals of the country with memo- 
ries of its liberators. The exploits of Tell, whether they 
be historic or legendary, the confederation of the men of 
Uri, the New Year's morning attack upon the castles held 
by the Austrian nobles ; all centre around the lake. Not 
far away among the hills on the north is Morgarten — to 
Switzerland a happier Thermopylae. Here on a November 



LUCERNE 155 

morning in the year 13 15, thirteen hundred peasants posted 
on the heights above the little Egeri See, completely 
defeated twenty thousand Austrian troops, headed by Duke 
Leopold himself. These were marching southward along a 
narrow track between the waters of the lake and a flooded 
morass, when the head of the column was crushed by rocks 
and darts hurled by concealed foes ; the long line was thrown 
into confusion ; and an impetuous charge completed the in- 
vaders' destruction. Sempach, as has been said, is not far 
away, where, some eighty years later, the son of Leopold 
was defeated by a handful of men and left dead upon the 
field. 

But, besides these earlier struggles, memories of a later 
and more chequered age belong to the shores of Lucerne. 
Liberty of opinion in France too often seems to mean the 
right of murdering all who have the misfortune to disagree 
with you, whether at home or abroad. In accordance with 
this principle, which has in later days been illustrated, both 
in Rome and at Paris, it was determined towards the end of 
the last century to communicate the blessings of a newly- 
acquired Liberie^ Egalite^ Fraternite^ to the Swiss, who for 
a good many centuries had enjoyed a passable, though not 
always perfect imitation of a Republic. True it was that 
these benighted mountaineers were not in the least sensible 
of the blessings thus offered to them ; but the apostles of 
the new gospel of love would listen to no denial. War was 
declared, the lowlands were quickly overrun, and once more 
a stand was made among the old historic sites. Morgarten 
witnessed a second success, though less decisive than the 
former triumph. Stanz, however, a village on one arm of 
the Lake, at the foot of the Brunig pass, was the scene of 
the last desperate struggle, where a small band of moun- 



156 SWITZERLAND 

taineers kept at bay for some days sixteen thousand dis- 
ciplined troops of France, and at last perished — in many 
cases, men, women and children together, — amid the flames 
of their homes. 



LAKES OF LUCERNE, ZURICH AND ZUG 

VlCrOR HUGO 

BENEATH my eyes I have the Lake of Lucerne, the 
wonder of Switzerland. The water of the lake 
comes up close under my window and beats softly 
against the old stones of the tower. I hear the faint sound 
of the fish leaping in it. The darkness is intense. On my 
right, however, I can distinguish a rotten wooden bridge, 
with sharp-pointed roofing, extending towards a bulky 
tower with a superb outline. Vague gleams of light run 
over the water. Facing me, some five hundred steps from 
my tower, several tall black poplars are reflected in the dark 
lake. A wide-stretching mist, spread by the night over the 
lake, hides the rest from me. It is not raised high enough, 
however, to prevent me from seeing the sinister growth of 
Mount Pilatus, planted before me in all its immensity. 

Above the three teeth of its summit, Saturn, with the 
four beautiful stars of gold amid which he is set, outlines a 
gigantic hour-glass in the sky. Behind Pilatus and on the 
shores of the lake a crowd of mountains — old, bald and de- 
formed — ^jostle together confusedly : Titlis, Prosa, Cris- 
palt, Badus, Galenstock, Frado, Furka, Mutthorn, 
Beckenviederberg, Urihorn, Hochstollen, Rathorn, Thier- 
stock, and Briinig. I have a blurred impression of all these 
goitred, hunchbacked giants crouching in the shadow around 
me. 

From time to time, through the darkness^ the sound of 



158 SWITZERLAND 

distant bells Is borne to me on the wind. It is the cows and 
goats wandering in the aerial pastures of Pilatus and Rigi, 
shaking their little bells and this soft music which reaches 
me here descends from a height of five or six thousand feet. 

In this one day I have seen three lakes : the Lake of 
Zurich, which I left this morning ; the Lake of Zug, which 
vouchsafed me an excellent eel for lunch ; and the Lake of 
Lucerne, which has just provided me with a supper of its 
admirable salmon trout. 

Seen as a bird flies, the Lake of Zurich has the form of a 
crescent, one of its horns resting at Zurich and the other at 
Utznach ; the Lake of Zug has the shape of a slipper, of 
which the road from Zug to Arth forms the sole ; the Lake 
of Lucerne resembles, up to a certain point, an eagle's 
crushed foot, the fractures of which form the two bays of 
Brunnen and Buochs, and of which the four claws bury 
themselves deep, one into Alpnach, another into Winkel, 
the third into Lucerne, and the last into Kiissnacht, where 
Tell slew Gessler. The culminating point of the lake is 
Fliielen. 

I became reconciled with the Lake of Ziirich before 
leaving it. For it was indeed beautiful seen from the 
height of the flanks of the Albis. The white houses on the 
opposite road gleamed like pebbles in the grass, some boats 
with sails rippled the glistening water, and the rising sun 
dispersed from ofF the surface of the lake, one after another, 
all the mists of the night, which the wind carried away dili- 
gently to a huge pile of clouds heaped up in the north. 
The Lake of Zurich was magnificent like this. 

When I tell you that I have seen three lakes during the 
day, I am over cautious ; I saw four. Between Albis and 
Zug, amid the most picturesque sierras imaginable, in the 



LAKES OF LUCERNE 159 

depths of a ravine, wild and wooded, and solitary, one per- 
ceives a little lake of sombre green called the Durlersee, of 
which the plummet has never yet found the bottom. It 
appears that a wayside village sank into it and was swal- 
lowed up. The colour of this pool of water is disquieting. 
One would take it for a great tubful of verdigris. — " A 
wicked lake ! " said an old peasant to me as he passed. 

The further one goes, the stranger become the horizons. 
At Albis, one seems to have four ridges of mountains super- 
imposed before one's eyes : the first layer, the green Ar- 
dennes ; the second layer, the dark Jura, with its abrupt out- 
lines; the third ledge, the bare, precipitous Apennines; be- 
hind and above all the white Alps. One might think them 
the first four steps of the ancient stairway of the Titans. 

Then one goes down again into the valleys ; one plunges 
into the forests. The boughs weighted with leaves form 
over the road a reticulated vault, the meshes of which allow 
warmth and daylight to rain through. A few sparse cot- 
tages, genial and enticing, half hide their frontages of yel- 
low wood, with their windows of round panes, which one 
might think set in coarse tulle. A benevolent-looking peas- 
ant passes with his wagon drawn by oxen. The ravines 
make wide gaps in the trees, the eye escapes through the 
cuttings, and, if it is noon and the weather is fine, a mag- 
nificent interchange of lights and shadows takes place on 
every side between earth and sky. The wide curtains of 
mist overhanging the horizon are rent here and there, and, 
through the rents, the distant mountains suddenly appear in 
the depths of a cavern of light as in a magic mirror. 

Zug, like Bruck and like Baden, is a charming feudal 
commune, still encircled with towers, its massive pointed 
gates blazoned and crenelated, and all battered by assaults 



i6o SWITZERLAND 

and escalades. Zug has not the Aar, like Bruck j Zug 
has not the Limmat, like Baden ; but Zug has its lake, its 
tiny lake, which is one of the loveliest in Switzerland. I 
seated myself upon a slight fence overshadowed by linden- 
trees, a few steps from my inn. Before me I had the Rigi 
and Pilatus, which formed four gigantic pyramids, two ris- 
ing up into the sky and two throwing themselves backwards 
into the water. 

At Zurich I hired a little four wheeled cabriolet, which 
bowled in the most delightful way imaginable along this 
pretty road, with its escarpments of trees and rocks on the 
left, and on the right the water of the lake scarcely ruffled 
by a breath of air. The lake is graceful on leaving Zug ; 
it becomes magnificent as one approaches Arth. For above 
Arth, a large village in the Canton of Schwytz, is the Ross- 
berg, which the country-folk call the " Sonnenberg " (the 
mountain in the sunlight), and the Rigi, which they call 
the " Schattenberg " (the mountain in the shadow). 

At three o'clock I entered the shadow of the Rigi, leav- 
ing dazzling sunshine on the hills of Zug. As I approached 
Arth, I thought of Goldau. I knew that that pretty laugh- 
ing town hid from the wayfarer the corpse of the crushed 
village. I gazed at that placid lake in which chalets and 
mountains were mirrored. It also conceals terrible things. 
Beneath the Rigi it is twelve hundred feet deep, and when 
it is swept by the two violent winds which the boatmen of 
Arth and Zug call the Arbis and the Wetterfcehn, this 
charming pool of water becomes more formidable and hor- 
rible than the ocean. Before me, in the far distance rose 
the Rigi, a huge, dark, precipitous wall, up which the fir- 
trees clambered in confused and emulous haste, like battal- 
ions climbing to the assault. 



LAKES OF LUCERNE 161 

At five o'clock I emerged from this shadow of the Rigi. 
I had crossed the elbow which forms the lower end of the 
Lake of Zug, I had passed through Arth, and had just left 
the shore for a road with very steep banks, which ascends 
one of the low ridges of the Rigi at a tolerably steep in- 
cline. 

Suddenly the road grows lonely ; a dilapidated house 
emerges from a cluster of trees upon a little grass-plot. 
My driver had stopped. I was in the famous Hollow Way 
of Kussnacht. On the i8th of November, 1307 — five 
hundred and thirty-one years, nine months and twenty-two 
days ago — at this very hour and on this very spot, an ar- 
row, firmly sped through this very forest, pierced a man to 
the heart. This man was Austrian tyranny ; the arrow was 
Swiss liberty. 

The road from Kussnacht to Lucerne skirts the water 
like that from Zug to Arth. The Lake of Lucerne is even 
more beautiful than the Lake of Zug. Instead of the Rigi, 
I had now Mount Pilatus before me. 



THE RIGI 

DR. S. G. CHEETER 

IT was the 6th of September, and the most perfectly 
beautiful morning that can be imagined. At a quarter 
past three the stars were reigning supreme in the heav- 
ens, with just enough of the old moon left to make a trail of 
light in the shape of a little silver boat among them. But 
speedily the horizon began to redden over the eastern range of 
mountains, and then the dawn stole on in such a succession 
of deepening tints, that nothing but the hues of the preced- 
ing sunset could be more beautiful. But there is this great 
difference between the sunrise and sunset, that the hues of 
sunset are every moment deepening as you look upon them, 
until they fade into the darkness, while those of the sunrise 
gradually fade into the light of day. It is difficult to say 
which process is the more beautiful; for if you could make 
everything stand still around you, if you could stereotype or 
stay the process for an hour, you could not tell whether it 
were the morning dawn or the evening twilight. 

A few long, thin stripes of fleecy cloud lay motionless 
above the eastern horizon, like layers of silver lace, dipped 
first in crimson, then in gold, then in pink, then lined with 
an ermine of light, just as if the moon had been lengthened 
in soft furrows along the sky. The scene in the east at- 
tracts every eye at first, but it is not here that the glory of 
the view is to be looked for. This glory is in that part of 




Pi 
o 

►—I 

o 

I— I 

ai 



THE RIGI 163 

the horizon on which the sun first falls, as he struggles up 
behind the mountains to flood the world with light. And 
the reason why it is so glorious is because, long before you 
call it sunrise in the east, he lights up in the west a range 
of colossal pyres that look like blazing cressets kindled 
from the sky. 

The object most conspicuous as the dawn broke, and in- 
deed the most sublimely beautiful, was the vast enormous 
range of the snowy mountains of the Oberland, without 
spot or veil of cloud or mist to dim them ; the Finster- 
Aarhorn at the left, and the Jungfrau and Silberhorn at the 
right, peak after peak and mass after mass, glittering with a 
cold wintry whiteness in the grey dawn. Almost the ex- 
act half of the circumference of the horizon commanded 
before and behind in our view, was filled with these peaks 
and masses of snow and ice, then lower down the moun- 
tains of bare rock, and lower still the earth with mounds of 
verdure ; and this section of the horizontal circumference, 
which is filled with the vast ranges of the Oberland Alps, 
being almost due west from the sun's first appearance, it is 
on their tops that the rising rays first strike. 

This was the scene for which we watched, and it seems 
as if nothing in nature can ever again be so beautiful. It 
was as if an angel had flown round the horizon of moun- 
tain ranges and lighted up each of their white pyramidal 
points in succession, like a row of gigantic lamps burning 
with rosy fires. Just so the sun suddenly tipped the highest 
points and lines of the snowy outline, and then, descending 
lower on the body of the mountain, it was as if an invisible 
Omnipotent hand had taken them, and dipped the whole 
range in a glowing pink ; the line between the cold snow 
untouched by the sunlight and the warm roseate hue above 



i64 SWITZERLAND 

remaining perfectly distinct. This effect continued some 
minutes, becoming, up to a certain point, more and more 
beautiful. 

We were like children in a dark room, watching for the 
lighting up of some great transparency. Or, to use that 
image with which the poet Dante endeavoured to describe 
the expectant gaze of Beatrice in Paradise, awaiting the 
splendours to be revealed, we might say — 

" E*en as the bird who midst the leafy bower 
Has in her nest set darkling through the night. 
With her sweet brood ; impatient to descry 
Their wished looks, and to bring home their food. 
In the fond quest unconscious of her toil : 
She of the time prevenient, on the spray 
That overhangs their couch, with wakeful gaze 
Expects the sun ; nor ever, till the dawn, 
Removeth from the east her eager ken. 
Wistfully thus we looked to see the heavens 
Wax more and more resplendent, till on earth 
Her mountain peaks burned as with rosy flame. 

'Twixt gladness and amaze 
In sooth no will had we to utter aught. 
Or hear. And as a pilgrim, when he rests 
Within the temple of his vow, looks round 
In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell 
Of all its goodly state ; even so our eyes 
Coursed up and down along the living light. 
Now low, and now aloft, and now around 
Visiting every step. Each mount did seem 
Colossal ruby, whereon so inwrought 
The sunbeam glowed, yet soft, it flamed intense 
In ecstasy of glory." 



THE RIGI 165 

In truth no word was uttered when that scene became 
visible. Each person gazed in silence. It was as if we 
witnessed some supernatural revelation, where mighty 
spirits were the actors between earth and heaven. And 
yet a devout soul might have almost felt, seeing those fires 
kindled as on the altars of God made visible, as if it heard 
the voices of Seraphim crying Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord 
of Hosts, the whole earth is full of His glory ! For, in- 
deed, the vision was so radiant, so full of sudden, vast and 
unimaginable beauty and splendour, that methinks a phalanx 
of the Sons of God, who might have been passing at that 
moment, could not have helped stopping and shouting for 
joy as on the morning of creation. 

This was the transient view, which, to behold, one might 
well undertake a voyage across the Atlantic ; — of a glory 
and a beauty indescribable, and nowhere else in the world 
to be enjoyed, and here only in perfect weather. After 
these few moments, when the sun rose so high that the whole 
masses of snow upon the mountain ranges were lighted with 
the same rosy light, it grew rapidly fainter, till you could 
no longer distinguish the deep exquisite pink and rosy hues 
by means of their previous contrast with the cold white. 
Next the sun's rays fell upon the bare rocky peaks, where 
there was neither snow nor vegetation, making them shine 
like jasper, and next on the forests and soft grassy slopes, 
and so down into the deep bosom of the vales. The pyram- 
idal shadow cast by the Rigi was most distinct and beau- 
tiful, but the atmospheric phenomenon of the Spectre of the 
Rigi was not visible. 

This amazing panorama is said to extend over a circum- 
ference of three hundred miles. In all this region, when the 
upper glory of the heavens and mountain-peaks has ceased 



i66 SWITZERLAND 

playing, then, as the sun gets higher, forests, lakes, hills, 
rivers, trees and villages, at first indistinct and grey in 
shadow, become flooded with sunshine and almost seem 
floating up towards you. 

There was for us another feature of the view, consti- 
tuting by itself one of the most novel and charming sights 
of Swiss scenery, but which does not always accompany the 
panorama from the Rigi, even in a fine morning. This 
was the soft, smooth white body of mist, lying on most of 
the lakes and in the vales, a sea of mist, floating or rather 
brooding, like a white dove, over the landscape. The spots 
of land at first visible in the midst of it were just like islands 
half emerging to the view. It lay over the Bay of Kiiss- 
nacht at our feet, like the white robe of an infant in the 
cradle, but the greater part of the Lake of Lucerne was 
sleeping quietly without it, as an undressed babe. Over 
the whole of the Lake of Zug the mist was at first 
motionless, but in the breath of the morning it began 
slowly to move altogether towards the west, disclosing 
the village of Arth and the verdurous borders of the 
lake, and then uncovering its deep sea-green waters, 
which reflected the lovely sailing shadows of the clouds as 
a mirror. 

Now the church bells began to chime under this body of 
mist, and voices from the invisible villages, mingled with 
the tinkle of sheep-bells and the various stir of life awaken- 
ing from sleep, came stilly up the mountain. And now 
some of the mountain peaks themselves began suddenly to 
be touched with fleeces of cloud, as if smoking with incense 
in morning worship. Detachments of mist began also to 
rise from the lakes and valleys, moving from the main body 
up into the air. The villages, chalets and white roads, dot- 



THE RIGI 167 

ting and threading the vast circumference of landscape, 
come next into view. And now on the Lake Zug you may 
see reflected the shadows of clouds that have risen from the 
surface, but are themselves below us. 



MOUNT PILAWS 

VICTOR HUGO 

PILATUS is a wonderful mountain. It is terrible in 
shape. In the Middle Ages it was cdWeA Fracmont^ 
the broken mountain. There is nearly always a 
cloud over the summit of Mount Pilatus j hence its name of 
Mons pileatus^ the capped mountain. The Lucerne peasants, 
who know the Gospel better than Latin, turn the word 
pileatus into Pilatus^ and conclude from this that Pontius 
Pilate is buried beneath the mountain. 

As for the cloud, it behaves according to the old women, 
in a fantastic fashion : when present, it foretells fine 
weather; when absent, it foretells a storm. Pilatus, like 
the eccentric giant that he is, puts on his cap when it is fine 
and dofFs it when it rains. So that this mountain-barometer 
dispenses four Swiss Cantons from having at their windows 
those little hermits with movable hoods animated by means 
of catgut. The existence of the cloud is certain. I 
watched it all the morning. Within four hours it took 
twenty different shapes, but did not leave the mountain's 
brow. Sometimes it resembled a great white stork lying in 
the hollows of the summit as in a nest ; sometimes it split 
up into five or six little clouds, making an aureole of eagles 
hovering around the mountain. 

You can understand how such a cloud over such a moun- 
tain was certain to give rise to many superstitions in the 
country below. The mountain is peaked, the slope is 



MOUNT PILATUS 169 

laborious ; it is six thousand feet in height, and its summit is 
surrounded by many terrors. It, therefore, made the most 
daring chamois-hunters hesitate long. — What could be the 
cause of that strange cloud ? — Two hundred years ago, a 
freethinker who had the foot of a mountaineer, risked his 
life and climbed Mount Pilatus. Then the cloud was ex- 
plained. 

On the mountain's very crest there is a lake, a tiny lake, 
a bowl of water a hundred and sixty feet long, eighty feet 
broad and of unknown depth. When it is fine the sun 
strikes upon this lake and draws a cloud from it; when the 
weather breaks, there is no more sun and no more cloud. 

Besides the lake, prodigious things were found on Mount 
Pilatus. First, a fir-tree unique in the whole of Switzer- 
land — a colossal fir-tree with nine horizontal branches and 
bearing on each of these branches another great fir-tree, 
which must have made it look like a gigantic seven-branched 
candlestick. Then, in the Briindlisalp, which is the ridge 
nearest the seven peaks of the summit, an echo, which 
seems rather a voice than an echo, so perfect is it and so 
clearly does it repeat words to their last syllables and songs 
to their last notes. And lastly, in a fearful precipice in the 
middle of a perpendicular wall of black rock more than six 
hundred feet in height, the mouth of an inaccessible cavern, 
and, at the entrance of this cavern, a supernatural statue of 
white stone some thirty feet in height, sitting cross-legged 
and leaning its elbows on a granite table, in the redoubtable 
attitude of a spectre guarding the threshold of the cavern. 

It appears that the cave pierces the whole mountain and 
comes out on the other side beneath the Tomlisalp at an 
opening called the " Moon-hole '* because, says Ebel, much 
" moon-milk" is found there. 



170 SWITZERLAND 

Being unable to scale the wall six hundred feet in height 
they endeavoured to turn the statue and to enter its retreat 
by the " moon-hole." This hole is sixteen feet in diameter 
one way and nine in another. It pours forth a torrent and 
an icy wind. This in itself was sufficiently dangerous. 
They ventured it, however. They groped their way 
through vaulted chambers ; they crawled on their faces, now 
beneath fearful ceilings, now through running streams. No 
one was able to penetrate to the statue. It is still there, in- 
tact in the strict sense of the word, contemplating the abyss, 
guarding the cavern, serving its term of confinement and 
dreaming of the mysterious workman who carved it. The 
mountaineers call this figure Saint Dominic. 

The Middle Ages and the Sixteenth Century concerned 
themselves with Pilatus as much as with Mont Blanc. To- 
day no one thinks of it. The Rigi is the fashion. The 
gloomy superstitions of Mount Pilatus have fallen to the 
level of old wives' tales and there stagnate. The summit is 
no longer dreaded except for the difficulty of climbing it. 
General Pfyffer has made barometric observations upon it 
and declares that the minster of Strasburg can be seen from 
it with a telescope. 

A strange community of shepherds have taken up their 
quarters and settled there. They are strong, active men, 
living to be centenarians and profoundly despising the 
human ants who inhabit the plain. 

Nevertheless there are still at Lucerne ancient laws pro- 
hibiting the throwing of stones into the little lake at the sum- 
mit of Pilatus, for the fantastic reason that a flint causes a 
water-spout to rise out of it, and that the lake repays every 
stone thrown into it, with a storm that covers the whole of 
Switzerland. 



A 



ZURICH 

WILLIAM HEP WORTH DIXON 

BRIGHT old city on a fresh green lake — white 
houses nestling in the midst of trees ; quaint streets, 
arcades and spires ; grim minsters looking down on 
shop and stall j wide quays and bridges, piers and water- 
mills ; old convents, walls and towers ; new colleges, hotels 
and railway lines ; the records of a thousand years, the fancies 
of a passing day ; a church of Charles the Great, a palace of 
the modern arts ; one river leading from the lake ; a second 
river rushing from the hills; around you mounds and crests, 
here rolling outward to the Adlis-berg, there straining up- 
ward to the Albis chain ; each hill with vineyards at her base 
and village belfry on her top; and in the front, beyond the 
stretch of shining lake, a rugged line of Alps, all swathed 
and lit with snow — is Zurich city, capital of Zurich Canton 
and a paradise of learning and of learned men. 

Some natives speak of Zurich as the Swiss Athens ; men 
who live in books and have their hearts inflamed with an- 
cient Greeks. For Zurich is the centre of a Switzer's in- 
tellectual life. Among her literary and artistic circles, she 
can boast academies of art and music ; institutes of science 
and of law ; botanic gardens, public libraries and museums ; 
a society of public usefulness ; a Griitli club, an Alpine 
club, a reading club, a natural-history club; societies of 
commerce and of agriculture ; many hospitals, retreats, 
asylums ; a society of antiquities ; a public garden on the 
lake; a theatre; a temple of freemasons; many Church 



172 SWITZERLAND 

unions; and a hundred colleges and schools. The Univer- 
sity is here; the Polytechnic is here; the anatomical school 
is here ; the cantonal schools and burgher schools are here. 
Yon shining edifice on the slope, above the Heretics* 
Tower is a palace of the practical arts. This block abutting 
on the minster is the ladies' school. These buildings in 
the tulip-trees are secondary schools. In the Virgin's 
quarter, near the Town Hall, stand the city schools for 
boys. On every side, in almost every street, you find a 
school ; a primary school, a secondary school, a supple- 
mentary school; day schools; evening schools; schools for 
the blind ; schools for the deaf and dumb (all models of 
their kind) ; industrial schools, commercial schools, lin- 
guistic schools : yes, schools of every sort and size except- 
ing actual pauper schools. For Canton Zurich has no pau- 
pers born and bred ; no paupers known and labelled as a 
class apart. Some poor she has ; but they are few in num- 
ber; not, as with ourselves, a state within the State. 

A prosperous country stretches round the city and reflects 
her life ; a Canton small in size compared with Berne, Grau- 
biinden, Vaud and Valais ; but teeming with a brave, en- 
during race ; a people full of labour, song and fight ; a little 
rough in speech and hard in style, as men who know their 
worth are apt to be ; yet patient in their strength, disposed 
to work with nature, not against her laws. The land is 
lovely in itself, and made more lovely still by art. Fair 
lakes are brightened by the works of man ; by latteen 
sail and puff of silver cloud, no less than by the cheery 
range of garden, chalet^ wood and spire. Low hills are 
tamed to vineyards, while the higher grounds are fat with 
fruit. Above these knolls, on which the grapes and med- 
lars seem to ripen against nature, start the bergs and spits 




u 

l-H 



ZURICH 173 

all green with wood; and straining up their sides, and flow- 
ing from their feet, broad belts of pasture land, on which 
vast herds of cattle range to browse. So far as art can reach, 
these mountain slopes are cleared and fenced for use. A 
craft, a will, a strength, but seldom seen in man's affairs, 
are noted in this Canton ; not in one part only and in one 
thing only, but in every part and everything alike. The 
climate is not good. The average warmth is lower than in 
Kent. Sharp winds sweep down the gullies and across the 
lake. Yon peaks are noted for their wintry storms, and one 
great breadth of alp in front of Zurich bears the name of 
Windgelle — screaming wind. The soil is poor and gritty; 
three parts pounded rock to one part vegetable mould. Yet 
when the best is made of it, how much that best can do ! 
Observe the peasant's shed, the pastor's porch, the farmer's 
field : how clean that shed, how bright that porch, how or- 
derly that field ! You see no heaps of mess, you smell no 
hidden filth. Each article is in its place ; and order reigns 
by virtue of some natural law. These roads are wide, these 
bridges strong, these waters fenced. The snows melt rap- 
idly in Canton Zurich; yet the floods, being guided and 
contained by dykes, roll down their beds, and through their 
overflows, without much hurt ; while in some neighbouring 
and neglected Cantons they are dashing mills to pieces, 
drowning goats and sheep, and tearing forests from the 
ground. In small things and in great you find these proofs 
of active thought and ready hand. Just peep into this bit 
of ground ; a common garden, with the usual herbs and roots, 
the usual flowers and seeds. Each bed, each tree, each 
plant, is treated by itself, as though it were a child. Ob- 
serve how every branch is pruned, how every leek is watered 
and how every gourd is trained. You need not marvel 



174 SWITZERLAND 

at the cherries on that tree. Here in the corner climbs a 
vine. The summer heat is on her leaves, and what a prom- 
ise of the blood red grapes to come ! 

The country all round Zurich is a garden, watered by 
innumerable springs and lakes. These springs and lakes 
are trained with Oriental craft, to flow about the orchards 
and potato-fields. Though mostly built of stone, the farms 
are painted of a cheery yellow, pink and white. These 
walks are planted and these roads well kept. Each house 
appears to stand in its own grounds. No poor are to be 
seen about the roads, save here and there some Swabian 
tramp, some Savoy beggar, or some pilgrim to St. Meinrad's 
cell. No Ziiricher is homeless ; hardly any Ziiricher is 
poor. In driving on these roads, you hear at every turn 
the song of life and work — the woodman felling trees, the 
milkmaid bringing home her pail, the cobbler stitching at 
his stall, the miller grinding at his wheel — all chirping at 
their task, the live-long day. The secret of this gracious 
look of things in Canton Zurich is, that every man enjoys 
an independent place. 

These labourers have an interest in the soil they till. 
No ballast for a man like that of having a little earth — his 
own — about his feet. These rustics own the cottages in 
which they live — the ground on which they toil. Though 
peasants born and bred, they understand their rights. They 
have been long at school and know the history of their 
Canton and their country. Every man among them has 
been taught his civic duties — has been schooled and drilled 
into a man. A child, he conned his lessons in the Virgin*s 
quarter of the town ; a youth, he marched and wheeled on 
the parade ; a man, he casts his vote in the electoral urn 
and scores the bull's eye at the WoUis Hofenbutts. 



ZURICH 175 

Each peasant owns, besides his house and field, a rifle 
and a vote. 

No sleepy hollow, where a shepherd feeds his flock, a 
craftsman plies his trade, without one thought beyond the 
summer heat and winter cold, is Canton Zurich ; but a 
fierce and busy agora, in which all news are searched, all 
questions put, all answers canvassed in their length and 
depth. The heat of life is felt in every vein. All forces 
here seem vital forces; pulse and brain beat time together; 
and the hearts of men dilate with the abounding tides. 
Democracy is not a name — a form of words — a label on a 
book of laws ; it is a fact. Each unit in the body politic is 
a living force. At dawn, a man gets up to work ; while 
sitting at his loom, he thinks ; some grievance in the code 
arrests him; he imparts his fancy to a neighbour; in a week 
a new discussion may arise. A thousand projects agitate 
men's minds and keep them in a state of civic health ; from 
Federal questions down to Communal questions, and from 
problems of the church and state to trifles of the streets and 
stalls. But most of all, men talk and fight about political forms. 

In one sense. Canton Zurich is conservative. She clings 
with limpet-like tenacity to her main ideas — her republican 
faith, her Federal duty, her religious life ; but in a lower 
plane she is of revolutionary cities the most revolutionary. 
Every twenty years or so, she sets about revising her funda- 
mental pact. Men yet living can remember five or six 
fundamental laws in Zurich, from the semi-feudal constitu- 
tion overthrown in 183 1, to the new and perfect system of 
democracy set up in 1869. 

Some years ago, some Feudal families in Zurich, boasting 
of descent from ancient vogts and bailiffs, held the whip ; 
an aristocracy of wealth and learning, fenced about with 



1 76 SWITZERLAND 

privilege and immunity, and holding by the right of birth 
all avenues to political power. By a set of public move- 
ments and with scarcely any bloodshed in her streets, 
these Feudal families were displaced. It is the genius of 
the Ziiricher to gain his ends by short and easy steps. A 
man of order, he contents himself with action in the polling- 
booths. One day he gains a point ; another day he gains a 
point. In time his revolution has been made, and public 
order has not been disturbed. 

The University was in the lower town, in old monastic 
lodgings, dreary, small and dark. The Liberals wished to 
plant it out on open ground, in sunshine, on the crest, 
where every eye could catch a glimpse of it. The Feudal- 
ists would have no change j the Liberals beat them, and 
the University was removed. 

Old walls and towers surrounded, cramped, and closed 
the town. The Liberals wished to pull them down, to let 
in air and light, to build a railway station near the city 
gates, to fill the ditch, and turn the glacis into terraces and 
schools. The Feudalists opposed this change ; the Liberals 
beat them, and the walls came down, excepting only two or 
three old towers retained as picturesque memorials of the 
past. 

The constitution was too feudal in its character to please 
a democratic people holding guns and votes. A public 
meeting was convened in 1867 to ask for a revision. What 
the Liberals wanted was a more direct relation of the voters 
to the government ; a right to choose the State Council as 
well as the Grand Council ; a veto on financial projects ; 
and a larger influence over church and school. The 
Feudalists protested ; but the Liberals beat them on appeal, 
and then the Cantonal constitution was revised. 



BASLE 

FICTOR 2USS0T 

WHEN the Paris-Lucerne express arrives at Basle, 
there is an hour or two that may be spent in see- 
ing the city ; that is long enough. The princi- 
pal objects of curiosity in Basle are its ancient-looking build- 
ings, giving it the aspect of an old German city; its fortress 
gates, flanked by towers which in olden times were con- 
nected by rampart walls ; its long, winding streets, dark and 
narrow, with here a flight of many steps, and there a steep 
paved slope ; its dull little squares, adorned with playing 
fountains, and some of the houses with many-gabled roofs, 
and windows still made with round panes set in a slender 
trellis-work of lead. The visitor should also notice the 
forged iron signs of the inns, hung from supports that look 
as light and delicate as lace-work, and consisting of fan- 
tastic arabesques, conventional flowers, golden roses, heraldic 
birds, swans with expanded wings, wild men armed with 
clubs, or crowned lions bearing the sword and globe as em- 
perors of the Holy Empire. 

The large number of historical houses shows how im- 
portant a position this town formerly occupied in the world. 

The Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburg lodged at the Seiden- 
hof ; the conclave that elected Pope Felix H. was held in 
the house Zur Miicke ; Erasmus lived in the house Zur 
Luft; peace between Prussia and France was signed in 
1795 in the house Burkhard ; the members of the Conven- 



178 SWITZERLAND 

tion who had been taken prisoners were exchanged for the 
Duchess of Angouleme in the house Hirsch. 

The Town Hall occupies one side of a little square, in 
the middle of which a Gothic fountain sends up a pretty, 
bell-shaped jet of water. The Hall has a magnificent, 
delicately carved front, with a fine clock, a belfry pointed 
like an arrow, fresco paintings, and a herald-at-arms in 
splendid plumes, bearing the coat-of-arms of Basle. Its 
iron gate is like a great window-blind, embroidered in open- 
work. All over there are statues, doors of carved wood, 
and in a prominent position, the escutcheon of Basle, held 
on one side by the Virgin and on the other by the emperor. 
A stone staircase, adorned with the statue of Munatius 
Plancus, the founder of the city, leads from the court to the 
vestibule on the first floor, where a Lutheran painter has 
depicted, according to his idea, some scenes of the Last 
Judgment. A devil in yellow trousers, with a cock's head 
and a duck's feet, is throwing nuns, monks, a pope, and a 
courtesan into the flames ; while another, as green as a 
frog, is bringing a lectern on his shoulders, and above him, 
in all the glory of paradise, and under the eye of a figure 
meant to represent the Eternal, rosy, chubby-cheeked angels 
sound the resurrection-trumpet. 

Religious disputes have always been carried on very 
keenly in Switzerland, and have everywhere left deep and 
permanent traces. 

When you go up from the Town Hall to the cathedral, 
you see how it has suffered in those times of strife, — how 
volleys of stones have defaced and mutilated the saints 
mutely praying under the arches of its three doorways. 
But you quickly lose sight of these marks of violence in 
looking at the building as a majestic whole, with its two 




< 



BASLE 179 

graceful towers terminating in spires carved in wavy lines 
like a delicate piece of goldsmith's work, and showing the 
light through innumerable openings, and the grand outline 
of this huge red mass, thrown out from the deep blue of the 
sky like a mountain of porphyry hewn out by giants. 

This cathedral of Basle is, like its sister temples on the 
banks of the Rhine, a truly magnificent building. It was 
begun in loio by the Emperor Henry II., and built after 
the Byzantine school. Three centuries and a half later it 
was rebuilt in Gothic style. Proudly holding its place as 
the sentinel of an older time, on the bank of the river that 
flows at its feet, it looks right across the plain broken up 
into meadows, fields, and forests, to the great embattled 
ramparts of the High Alps, pencilled faintly afar on a 
turquoise sky. 

Close to the cathedral rise the graceful, tapering arches 
of an old cloister, where many, once full of eager, busy life, 
now lie in their last long sleep. Under their cool shadow 
there is a sense of restful solitude, of quiet well-being, as 
if the soul had already laid aside its miserable garment 
of flesh and of pain. In this quiet enclosure, pacing these 
long, melancholy arcades, besides all those silent dead, we 
feel as if we, like them, were delivered from all the troubles 
and torments of life. 

Those long aisles, paved with tombstones, were the fa- 
vourite walk of Erasmus. When he stayed his steps at one 
of those deep Gothic windows looking towards the town, 
with its streets rising one above another like the tiers of a 
theatre, what looks of irony he must have cast at the 
world, — its juggling tricks, its false appearances, its hypoc- 
risies, its roguery and falsehood ! 

At such times he was meditating, with a cynical smile on 



i8o SWITZERLAND 

his face, on his " Praise of Folly," or composing his scep- 
tical and bitter "Colloquia" between the Soldier and the 
Carthusian, the Abbe and the Blue-stocking, the Liar and 
the Man of Truth. All the characters with which the 
public were familiar in the comedy of the period — monks 
and soldiers, scholars and pilgrims, women and abbes — he 
drew to the life in those dialogues, full of pungent wit, in 
which he makes them speak and act in a terribly realistic 
manner. 

But now here we are on the terrace, in the cool, green 
shade of the great chestnut-trees. The view that suddenly 
meets our eye is as charming as unexpected. 

At our feet flows the Rhine, already broad enough to 
reflect a cathedral or a citadel; to the right, above the 
slopes that run down to the river, are seen fine trees, towers 
and pinnacles, weather-cocks and turret windows, mingling 
in delightful confusion amid the uneven sea of old roofs ; 
to the left, terraced gardens with white retaining walls, the 
end of a steep street, and the great stone bridge that partly 
replaces the old wooden one. 

On the opposite side. Little Basle presents the regular 
lines of its modern houses, broken here and there by a fac- 
tory with its tall red chimney ; and beyond that, a vast 
plain, green as the Rhine, stretches away into the far dis- 
tance, with little white points that are villages, and ribbons 
of silver that are brooks or rivers, or perhaps roads with 
grey fringes, which are poplars, waving like plumes in the 
breeze. 

On the dim horizon, half seen through a silvery haze, the 
mountains crowd one on another, rank after rank, like a 
whole procession of pilgrims kneeling before the white mar- 
ble shrine of the eternal snows. 



BASLE 181 

The two Basics have not always been good neighbours ; 
for a long time they lived like brothers at war. The in- 
habitants of the left bank held themselves superior to those 
on the right ; and there is a tradition that in order to insult 
their rivals they erected on the tower that guards the bridge 
a grotesque figure, which at every quarter of an hour thrust 
out its tongue towards Little Basle. But though such a fig- 
ure was really placed on the bridge, there seems to be no 
foundation for ascribing such a motive. 

Until the close of the last century, it was the custom for 
all the clocks of Basle to strike an hour in advance. It was 
only in 1778 that the town authorities secretly agreed to set 
back the hands half a minute daily, and thus imperceptibly 
to reach correct time. 

The origin of this custom dates as far back as the first 
council that was held in Basle, during which it had been 
found necessary to put forward the clocks that the bishops 
and cardinals might rise in the morning; for they were said 
to be " very lazy persons, never in a hurry to come to the 
meetings." 

Basle is not a cheerful town. The bankers, who form a 
large part of its population, weave their webs in silence, — a 
solid and beautiful fabric of silver, which they do not hang 
out to shine and sparkle in the sun, but hide away in great 
iron coffers. 

There is something angular and stiff about Basle, — some- 
thing that belongs to its rigid orthodoxy and Its Puritan 
worship. The most elegant houses have an austere aspect, 
which is owing not only to their style of architecture but to 
the people who live in them. 

After leaving Paris only the day before, — Paris, so bright, 
so easily pleased, so wide awake, so full of life and stir, and 



i82 SWITZERLAND 

yet so foolish and idle, — even the most unobservant person 
must be struck by the contrast. It seems like another 
world, cramped and restricted. Therefore we make no 
long stay at Basle. 

And yet its museum is really a wonder, — a treasure be- 
yond value. Whole days might be spent there in studying 
the works of Holbein and Diirer. 



GENEVA 

CHARLES W. WOOD, F, R. G. S 

THE next morning, the weather as brilliant and glo 
rious and warm as an August day, we took pas- 
sage in the little steamer for Geneva. 

Nothing could be more lovely. The blueness of the lake 
rivalled the far-ofF skies. Not a cloud or the faintest 
wreath of mist hung about the mountains. The Dent du 
Midi stood out in all its massive splendour. The grey 
walls of Chillon were reflected in the calm water, its towers 
and turrets were sharply outlined against the background of 
hills. Again we thought of the Oubliette, the spiral stair- 
case and the pointed knives — and shuddered. With quite 
a feeling of excitement we saw the train far up the moun- 
tain leave Glion and go on its way towards the Rochers de 
Naye. Oh, to be there in such weather ! What a paradise 
above the earth ! 

We had quite a long day before us on the lake and for a 
time nothing could be more delightful. The steamer 
stopped frequently at places that have become household 
words to all ; Clarens, Vevey, Lausanne, Morges. The 
day was so calm, the lake so clear that we saw two worlds : 
one above the water, one below it : and the reflections 
were as vivid and life-like as the realities, and more poetical. 
Our human freight changed frequently. Many a town 
and village was wonderfully picturesque with mediaeval out- 
lines ; ancient fortresses and turreted castles that had played 
their part in a world that is receding from us and growing 



i84 SWITZERLAND 

very faint and shadowy. At Lausanne the town stretched 
far up the slopes, and in the distance the cathedral towers 
were outlined. Morges, with its old castle and its ancient 
harbour and romantic associations, was especially interest- 
ing. Here as we glided gently over the smooth surface of 
the water, we thought we saw far down the pile-city of the 
Lake-dwellers. We fancied we heard voices speaking, 
church bells ringing. Of course it was all imagination, 
but it was sufficient to plunge us into a dream of that 
strange story of the past. 

As the afternoon went on, the lake widened and lost its 
immediate charm ; the air grew chilly ; and when towards 
five o^clock Geneva came in sight, we were glad that the 
journey was coming to an end. 

As we approached it from the water its outlines were 
sufficiently commonplace ; but we had formed no very ex- 
alted ideas of its beauty and were not likely to be disap- 
pointed. Geneva is essentially a city of to-day. Fifty 
years ago it was a small place with mean and narrow streets, 
unwholesome and unattractive. During this half century 
it has been almost entirely rebuilt. Few towns have had 
more uninterrupted prosperity. All the world and his wife 
have visited and continue to visit Geneva. Least interest- 
ing of all Swiss towns, It is the central point towards which 
all radiate. Nor can we wonder, for if Its visible and tangi- 
ble attractions are small, its historical atmosphere is in its 
way unrivalled. 

As we approached the quays we saw that they were lined 
with strictly modern outlines ; enormous houses and hotels 
common to the end of the Nineteenth Century. Immedi- 
ately facing the landing-stage was one of the largest of the 
hotels, the Beau Rivage. It ranks among the first, and 




> 



GENEVA 185 

was so near at hand that we decided to take it ; but we 
found it dear and uncomfortable, the bedrooms close and 
stuffy. 

As the steamer glided up the lake towards the landing- 
stage Rousseau's Island reposed at the other end, and under 
the trees we caught sight of the outlines of the bust of that 
strange man, with his mixed and complicated and contra- 
dictory nature ; full of poetical aspirations and lofty inten- 
tions, if we may believe him, joined to a constant weak- 
ness of purpose, a frailty of temperament which left him 
helpless and yielding in the face of every temptation. 

Geneva, we have said, has been for the most part rebuilt 
in the last half century ; looking at her enormous houses 
and hotels, her tree-lined thoroughfares, one might say in 
the last ten years. But there still remains a small part of 
the upper town that is ancient. Of this, the cathedral is 
the centre, the latter very much spoilt by its Eighteenth 
Century portico. 

It is impossible to walk these old streets of the past 
without feeling oneself surrounded by that little crowd of 
people who have made Geneva forever famous : Calvin, 
Beza, Farel, Knox, Voltaire (what a juxtaposition, those 
two !), Rousseau, Neckar, Madame de Stael, Casaubon, de 
Candolle, Huber, Sismondi, Bonivard, d'Aubigne — why 
multiply names ? And then there are a few names to cast 
a reflection upon the greatness of some of these — such 
names as Castellio and Servetus. 

The streets seem haunted by that great crowd of re- 
formers and literary stars. Their shadowy forms surround 
one. You pass the houses some of them inhabited, and 
ghostly faces peer at you through the old windows, and 
ghostly forms glide through the open doorways. You enter 



i86 SWITZERLAND 

an old-fashioned room and hear Farel threatening Calvin 
with the wrath of Heaven if he will not make their cause 
his own. Calvin trembles and yields. You enter the 
cathedral and the building rings with the voice of Calvin, 
his presence fills the pulpit ; his eloquence, his earnestness, 
his indomitable will carry the people with him, as a rushing 
stream sweeps down all obstruction upon its bosom. 
Whatever its views and opinions, he was a man raised up 
for the times ; and to him and his band of reformers 
Protestantism owes an undying debt. 

After visiting Italy, Calvin, at the request of his enthusi- 
astic friend, Tillet, went to Geneva. His arrival was 
made known to the still more devoted Farel, who had also 
escaped from Paris. 

The marvellous changes proceeded with the rapidity al- 
most of a revival. Geneva had just thrown off the yoke 
of the Dukes of Savoy, thus breaking the link with 
Rome. The times were ripe for the Reformer. The peo- 
ple eagerly embraced Protestantism. A Protestant Con- 
fession of Faith was drawn up and proclaimed in the 
Cathedral church of St. Peter's. A vast concourse of peo- 
ple accepted it. Vice and frivolity gave place to gravity 
of demeanour and religious observances. 

Then came a reaction. The reform was too sudden. 
A certain section of the people rebelled. These were called 
Libertines, and grew so strong in power that once more 
Calvin had to fly from Geneva — or rather was expelled 
from it. He went to Strasburg, devoted himself to study, 
and married a widow : but death soon dissolved the happy 
marriage, and though a young man, he never married again. 

Three years passed away. During all this time the peo- 
ple of Geneva were gradually repenting their conduct to 



GENEVA 187 

Calvin. Everything had gone wrong. The Libertines 
proved themselves unable to govern ; disorder reigned. 
They begged Calvin to return to them, and he did so. 
This time it was to remain. His rule was established, 
though not without opposition. For fifteen years the Lib- 
ertines opposed him to the utmost. At last, after a semi- 
riot in the streets, accompanied by more noise than blood- 
shed, the leaders were driven from the city and burnt in 
effigy. The town had peace. 

Other disputes would occasionally arise, some of which 
were conducted with more zeal than charity or discretion. 
One*s sympathies go out to his old friend Castellio, whom, 
in his religious fervour he persecuted. 

He found Castellio at Strasburg, had admired his learn- 
ing, bewailed his poverty. He it was who brought Castellio 
to Geneva and gave him a post in the city. Then their 
religious views came into conflict, and Calvin, intolerant 
and narrow-minded, could permit no departure from his 
own firmly-rooted convictions. He became terribly bitter 
against Castellio and in the end drove him from the city. 

Still more sad was the history of Servetus, or Servede, in 
the language of his native country, Aragon. Servetus was 
so quarrelsome, fiery and impetuous that he was always in 
trouble. Having made himself notorious by his religious 
views, he proceeded to Paris and took up the study of 
medicine, passing with honours. He is said to have been 
the first to guess at the circulation of blood. Getting into 
trouble with the Faculty, he left Paris and came into con- 
tact with Calvin, challenging his doctrines and advancing 
his own, which were full of error. He was brought to trial 
and sentenced to be burnt, a sentence altogether without 
defence. 



i88 SWITZERLAND 

Servetus escaped, and for a time lived in Provence, sup- 
porting himself by writing. After this, on his way to Italy, 
he had the folly to pass through Geneva, actually appearing 
in church. He was recognized, and Calvin caused him to 
be arrested. 

Again he was tried, the trial lasting two months, was 
found guilty, and again sentenced to be burnt. Calvin 
endeavoured to have the sentence changed to imprisonment 
or banishment, but unsuccessfully. The very next day 
Servetus was bound to the stake ; his heretical works were 
thrown upon the piles of wood, and he died in great agony : 
a blot upon the times of the Reformation, a reproach to 
its leaders, of whom Calvin was the foremost. 

From this time Calvin's power and influence were greater 
than ever. It reached not only his immediate surroundings, 
but extended to many parts of Europe. His whole life and 
soul and devotion lay in his cause; for which indeed he 
shortened his days. When health began to fail he would 
not relax his efforts. For two years his great strength of 
will and determination of character supported him : and then 
on the 27th May, 1564, the end came. 

His strong personality still seems to haunt the old streets 
of Geneva, just as his religious teaching and influence remain. 

And passing beyond those streets to the heights above, 
we reach the spot where Servetus was burnt. It was the 
autumn of the year, when the trees were turning brown and 
the leaves were dying. The aspect of Nature was in har- 
mony with the inhuman sacrifice. It was just such a scene 
as we looked upon one morning, also the autumn of the 
year ; but we put from us the tragedy of three centuries and 
a half ago. Nor was it difficult as we advanced to the 
front of the clifFand gazed upon the marvellous view. 



GENEVA 189 

Far below us the two rivers ran their course : the Rhone 
and the Arve. A little further on and there came the 
wedding of the waters: the two rivers became one. For 
seventy miles it pursues its course through the wonderful 
Rhone valley, until, reaching the ancient town of Lyons, 
its emerald waters run side by side with the turbid Saone. 

To our right stretched the Lake of Geneva, surrounded 
by the town. In the distance uprose those glorious moun- 
tains, everlastingly snow-capped. Their outlines melted 
into the blue of the sky : a sky so lofty, so serene, it seemed 
impossible that it had ever looked down upon a human 
sacrifice or listened to the cries of a death-agony. Behind 
us were the trees of a lovely wood full of rich and varied 
tints, where the birds chirped their autumn song. We had 
the whole scene to ourselves. 

From this point Geneva appeared even interesting and 
romantic. We looked down upon a multitude of roofs, 
upon softened outlines rendered slightly hazy as the blue 
smoke rose and lost itself in the clear, pure air. On the 
lake a few white-winged boats were gliding about, small 
steamers were going to and fro. But we were above all 
sound, beyond all disturbing elements. Down below was 
Rousseau's Island, and here we felt was a scene that Rous- 
seau must have loved, the contemplation of which must 
have appealed to all his better nature. 



CHILLON AND THE LAKE OF GENEVA 

CHARLES W. WOOD, F. R. G. S. 

THE train crept down to Glion, where the snow had 
given place to a deluge of rain. We changed 
trains, and as the car was open we had the benefit 
of a free shower-bath. Territet was hailed as a City of 
Refuge. 

As good fortune would have it, the rain ceased though 
the clouds did not lift, and we decided to take a short walk 
to Chillon in spite of muddy roads. Down the road we 
went, through the mud and under the clouds. Clouds and 
fantastic mists hung about the mountains j the Dent du 
Midi was quite invisible. This was not our idea of the 
sunny, romantic, mountain-bound Lake of Geneva. But 
there was the water, what we could see of it ; and in spite 
of adverse circumstances, it charmed. 

A very short walk brought us to Chillon, most ancient and 
romantic, most historical and beautiful object on Lake Leman. 
It is in the neighbourhood of the high mountains. The 
Dent du Midi stands near it across the water, in all its glory. 
One feels with melancholy satisfaction that at least the 
prisoners had the beauties of Nature to look upon and while 
away their captive hours. The Castle has existed for cen- 
turies, and yet very little was said or sung about it before the 
days of Byron. One meets the name of Byron at every 
turn. 

We soon reached the well-known outlines. Like a lovely 




o 



u 



i 



CHILLON 191 

air, hackneyed on a barrel-organ, Chillon has been so writ- 
ten about, so sketched and painted, one feared a common- 
place atmosphere would surround and spoil it. But as soon 
as you catch sight of its walls and towers, reflected in the 
clear water, surrounded by those splendid mountains, every 
past impression gives place to present charm. You see it 
for the first time as it is, and are fascinated. At once it 
creeps into your heart, for its own sake as well as that of 
Bonivard, the Prisoner of Chillon. Not only the prisoner, 
for it has had numberless victims far more to be pitied than 
Bonivard ; but only Bonivard had a Byron to immortalize his 
name : though after all, Byron's prisoner was more imaginary 
than real ; more a type than an actual personage. And yet 
he very closely touched the truth. It was later on that he 
knew all about Bonivard and Introduced him into those 
well-known lines, so often quoted : 

*' Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place. 

And thy sad floor an altar ; for 'tv/as trod 
Until his very steps have left a trace 
Worn, as if the cold pavement were a sod. 
By Bonivard ! May none those marks efface I 
For they appeal from tyranny to God ! " 

Historically, we first hear of the Castle of Chillon in the 
year 830, and even then it was used as a prison ; a gloomy 
building, shut out from the world, where only sky, lake and 
mountains could be seen. Here Louis-le-Debonnaire 
imprisoned Count Wala, Abbe of Corbie, for inciting 
Louis's son to rebellion against him. Wala was cousin to 
Charlemagne, grandson to Charles Martel, and was ambi- 
tious. 



192 SWITZERLAND 

Chlllon In those days was a small habitation, perched on 
the rock. In 1150 it belonged to the Bishop of Sion, who 
possibly satisfied with his own magnificent stronghold, 
leased his Chlllon property to the Counts of Savoy. In 
1224 It passed into their possession; and In 1250 Count 
Peter of Savoy, who was called " Le petit Charlemagne^^ 
added to It and turned It into a strong fortress and a royal 
residence. When he died, it lost much of its importance 
as a residence, but was kept up as a fortress and a prison. 

The Castle stands close to the road. A wooden bridge 
over the moat leads to the Interior, where you find yourself 
in an atmosphere of the past. It now belongs to the Can- 
ton de Vaud and has been restored by an Association. 
The place Is empty with the exception of a few old pieces 
of furniture and carved wood, which seem to indicate the 
commencement of a museum of antiquities. In spite of 
restoration the rooms are extremely Interesting, with their 
enormous fireplaces, their ancient windows looking on to 
lake and mountain. 

Interesting above all is the dungeon of Bonivard, with 
its pillars and Gothic arches, which might almost be the 
aisles of some lovely cathedral. It certainly must be the 
most picturesque dungeon In existence, with Its exquisite 
pillars, receding arches and groined roof. Once it was di- 
vided into small cells, but now all is thrown open. Here 
prisoners languish no more. We have fallen upon times 
of peace and mercy. Massacres, inquisitions, secret tor- 
tures, unholy captivities are of the past. 

Bonivard was a Prior of St. Victor ; a Savoyard by birth, 
who had transferred his affections to Geneva, then going 
through its religious crises. The times were out of joint, 
but momentous and intensely interesting. Farel was sway- 



CHILLON 193 

ing Calvin, and Calvin u^as girding himself to the battle. 
Whatever Geneva is now, it has had great influence in its 
day, and seen great men. Such names as Calvin, Beza, Farel, 
D'Aubigne, Knox, Casaubon, Voltaire, Rousseau, Neckar, 
Madame de Stael, Saussure, Bonnet, De Luc, De CandoUe, 
Sismondi and others, all rise before us in a great crowd at 
the mention of Geneva. 

Bonivard loved it, and so made an enemy of Duke 
Charles in his endeavours to free Geneva from the yoke of 
Savoy. He was seized and secretly imprisoned, but escaped 
at the end of two years. Again he was taken, and this 
time more carefully guarded. For six long years he lan- 
guished in prison, part of the time chained to a pillar — like 
Lord Bateman in the ballad. That pillar now bears the 
names of Byron (said to be a forgery), of Shelley, Dumas, 
George Sand, Quinet, Dickens, Victor Hugo, Eugene Sue, 
Tartarin, and others protesting against tyranny. 

The floor beneath the pillar is worn away with Bonivard*s 
weary footsteps. Looking across his dungeon through the 
small window he could just see a glimpse of blue sky, to 
remind him that Heaven was still above all. The first two 
years of his captivity were comparatively light; but the 
whole of the last four were spent in this dreary dungeon be- 
low the level of the lake. Then in 1536 came the con- 
quest of Vaud by the Bernese. A thousand men under 
Naegeli besieged Chillon, firing upon it from the lake. 
Beaufort fled in a barque and the Castle yielded. Bonivard 
was released and taken in triumph to Geneva, where he 
lived honoured and useful until 1570, dying at the age of 
seventy-four. After his freedom the current of his life 
changed. He had begun life as a Roman Catholic of the 
interesting Renaissance period. During the six years of his 



194 SWITZERLAND 

captivity he must have pondered long and deeply upon all 
these things. Once free, he became a Protestant, working 
steadily for the cause. He was also very domesticated, and 
became the husband of four wives. 

Few places with a reputation bear a visit better than 
Chillon. One is unwilling to leave the interior, still more 
the exterior. We linger about it, tracing its lovely outlines 
from every point of view. We go down to the edge of the 
lake and are fascinated by its reflections. Whatever its 
past history, it now only suggests peace and repose, swords 
turned into pruning-hooks. We take a white-winged 
boat, and waft gently to-and-fro under the very shadow of 
the great mountains. Chillon stands firm as the ages, full 
of dignity, romance and beauty. 

The air comes down to us, soft and caressing, from the 
Upper Rhone Valley. Within hail it opens with magnifi- 
cent scenery. The river, gathering strength from the time 
it leaves the Rhone glacier, runs between the mountains, 
falling into the lake ; to fall out again near Geneva, and 
continue its unrivalled course to the Mediterranean. 



MONTREUX AND ROCHERS DE NA YE 

CHARLES W, WOOD, F. R. G. S. 

THE situation of Montreux is delightful. It is a 
sort of earthly paradise. Below us stretch the 
lovely waters of the Lake of Geneva. On the 
other side rise the snow-capped Alps, the Dent du Midi 
splendid in their midst. On our own side of the lake, the 
hills rise above Montreux in terraced gardens, rich in vege- 
tation : the fruit of the vine mingling with the blossom of 
the rose-tree, a delicious perfume scenting the air. Houses 
high up nestle on the hill-sides : Swiss chalets with their 
painted roofs and overhanging eaves. Everywhere the eye 
is arrested by gorgeous creepers. Many a wall is a hang- 
ing garden of graceful, trailing leaves, of dazzling, vivid 
colouring. 

But then we are in the Canton of Vaud, thought by 
many to be the loveliest part of Switzerland. And round 
about Montreux the walks and excursions are charming and 
endless. 

" How exquisite are the secluded wood-paths ! " said 
Mendelssohn, keenly sensitive to the beautiful in Nature. 
" Of all the countries that I know, the loveliest is the Can- 
ton of Vaud ! If God should grant me a long old age, 
there would I live. It is a sweet and wonderful country. 
In returning from Italy one feels almost moved to tears at 
the sight of this corner of the world." 



196 SWITZERLAND 

" It is not only the hand of man that makes the strong 
contrasts of this lovely country," said Jean-Jacques Rous- 
seau. " Nature seems to place herself in vivid opposition 
with herself, so striking are the contrasts in the same spor 
at different times and under different aspects. In the east 
we have the flowers of Spring ; in the south those of Au- 
tumn ; in the north, wintry snow and ice. She unites 
every season at the same moment, every climate in the same 
spot; contradictory results from the same soil ; exhibiting 
at once a combination elsewhere unknown — the produc- 
tions of the plains side by side with those of the Alpine 
mountains. To these wonders must be added innumerable 
optical illusions ; the mountain-peaks standing out in every 
possible effect, the contrasts of sunshine and shadow, all the 
accidents and variations of light that repeat themselves 
night and morning." 

All this is quite true. And round about Montreux it- 
self, there is something specially charming and attractive. 
One feels unconsciously exhilarated, one hardly knows 
why. There is a lightness about the whole place. It 
must be the most delightful of sojourns. Like Mendelssohn, 
we longed to take up our abode here : not for a lifetime, 
but for days and weeks. 

And yet about the town of Montreux itself there is noth- 
ing at all out of the common. It is not full of ancient out- 
lines like Nuremberor or Dantzic or Vitre. On the con- 
trary, its streets and houses are modern and ordinary. Even 
here we begin to realize that the Swiss people are terribly 
wanting in character and individuality. But somehow, 
every one seems in a good temper; every one appears 
to feel that to live is to be happy. It is a land 
without Black Mondays. The daily round of duties 



MONTREUX 197 

is a recreation. People go to and fro with a smile on their 
faces, with hands full of fruit and flowers — those produc- 
tions that have come down to us from Paradise. The very 
flower-women are a law unto themselves, and deliberately 
ask you ten sous for a buttonhole : a rose or a dozen violets : 
for which they would ask one sou from their next door 
neighbour and be well paid. How different from the 
flower-women of Valencia, who for three or four sous would 
give you more flowers than you could carry away ! 

But this is the great drawback to Switzerland ; this grasp- 
ing greed of gain. It takes from its charm and beauty, and 
runs through the country like an insidious evil. Every 
possible fraction is extracted from the pocket of the visitor; 
it affects the whole working community, from the hotel 
keepers downwards ; is worse than the backsheesh of the 
Egyptian. But this " spoiling the stranger " has become a 
law to the people, fixed and unchangeable as the mountains 
themselves, 

Montreux, we have said, was an every day place in ap- 
pearance. Its hilly streets are of yesterday. The ancient 
town has nearly all disappeared. Here and there only we 
came upon a wonderful old-world bit to remind us of what 
once was. Even for a small torrent running down from 
the hills through the town to the lake a stone channel has 
been built, ruining all its rustic beauty. But all round 
about are the wonderful mountains. In these lies the great 
charm, and what more would you have ? The mountains, 
snow-capped, cloud-wreathed, find their reflections in the 
far-famed lake. On this first day, however, we did not see 
the mountain-tops. They were buried in mist ; the skies 
were grey and lowering ; rain had fallen in torrents. It 
ceased while we were in Montreux, only to begin again 



igS SWITZERLAND 

with redoubled force when the tramcar landed us at Ter- 
retet. 

A funicular railway takes you up the mountain from 
Terretet to Caux : a tremendously steep climb and a fine 
bit of engineering. But nothing is impossible in these days ; 
and we shall presently have a railway to the moon and an 
electric telegraph to Mars. 

Glion is the first station, and here we change trains. 
We imagined, somehow, that Caux was the terminus, and 
hence arose a blunder by which we eventually profited. 
The train stopped at Caux : nobody got out or in, nobody 
called the name of the station. Without half a second's 
consideration we returned to our seats, the guard shut the 
door, and again the train moved on. 

We now understood why the other passengers were im- 
movable : they were simply taking an excursion beyond 
cloudland, to the Rochers de Naye. In our ignorance we 
had never heard of the Rochers de Naye : had no idea this 
railway had been extended to the mountain-top, with tele- 
graphs, telephones, and a luxurious hotel established above 
the clouds. 

The train puffed and snorted : it was almost like going 
up the side of a house. Still the mist and the rain went 
on. It seemed that the journey would never end. Seven 
thousand feet above the sea ? We thought it must be seven 
thousand miles. Presently in the midst of dense clouds and 
heavy rain and depressing gloom, we entered a tunnel. It 
was only changing gloom for pitch darkness. This went 
on for a time, and when we emerged we thought we were 
dreaming. Mist and rain had disappeared ; there was not 
a cloud in the sky ; the sun was warm and dazzling. 

Never shall we forget the effect of the transformation. 



MONTREUX 199 

Here we were in summer; down at Caux and Montreux it 
was still misty and gloomy and rainy. We looked out and 
saw that the clouds were below us, and had never experi- 
enced so curious a sensation. We were on a level with 
the snow-tops of the mountains, glittering in the sunshine, 
a wonderful forest of peaks around us. In a sheltered spot 
stood the hotel, large, substantial and a reality. A hundred 
yards above it was the highest point of all, from which, as 
it were, you commanded the world. 

As for the air — when we left the train, we felt that wings 
had been given to us. It was a revelation and a new ex- 
perience. Surely we had never breathed before, and surely 
our bodies had left all that was earthly and material behind 
them ? The asphyxiated passengers came back to life, un- 
glued themselves, and tumbled out, pele-mele as the train 
steamed up to the little station, which is also a post-office. 
For there is even a post-office up in this mountain fastness 
above the clouds. It must be that the letters written here 
have a celestial ring about them. 

All the passengers at once made for the highest point, 
following each other in a long string, like turkeys in a farm- 
yard. Their outlines — curious grotesque outlines, you may 
be sure — were strongly marked against the white snow. It 
was a perfectly white world, pure and beautiful. 

But the view ! We did not shout and gesticulate like 
the rest of the little crowd, but we were none the less over- 
powered and impressed. We gazed over vast valleys. 
They were invisible, it is true, but we knew they were 
there. Below us was the region of cloudland; impene- 
trable vapours, rolling. and moving and changing form every 
moment. It seemed a thick, dense curtain, capable of sus- 
taining us. Over and over again the desire seized us to 



200 SWITZERLAND 

hurl ourselves from this great height into the yawning 
abyss of clouds. The impression upon the mind was 
that we should alight upon a soft and downy sub- 
stance in which we should float deliciously and for ever. 
It was impossible to realize that we could fall through that 
opaque mass ; fall, fall, until death met us on the way. 

Far down we knew was the Lake of Geneva and from 
the lake all this wonderful world of mist was rising. All 
around us, far and near, were the snow-peaks stretching to 
the skies : the wonderful ranges of the Alps. The clouds 
wreathed about them in every fantastic form, veiling and 
unveiling. It seemed that we only were above cloudland. 
Most of the famous peaks were there : Mont Blanc, Tete 
Noire, Aiguille Verte, Wetterhorn, Matterhorn, Dent du 
Midi : all these we caught in a group as it were : one 
grand, majestic, overpowering assemblage. And though 
some of the peaks were seven thousand feet and more 
above our present elevation, yet we almost seemed on a 
level with them. 

As the day went on to evening and sunset, the strange 
fantastic beauty of the scene was beyond all description. 
It was a magic world, of which we had never seen the like. 
The sun went down into the mist and all the mountain- 
peaks turned rosy red. The sky behind them was every- 
thing from pale rose to deep azure : colours that melted into 
each other. Then the clouds rose out of the abyss and 
creeped and wreathed about until they swept past us in tor- 
rents of vapour. 

Next occurred a strange phenomenon : strange to us un- 
acquainted with mountain-tops and the mysteries of their 
world. We had our backs to the sun. Suddenly in front 
of us there appeared a great oval frame with prismatic col- 




< 
> 

o 
u 

< 






MONTREUX 201 

ours. In this frame we saw ourselves distinctly reflected ; 
diaphanous, intangible. The effect was startling, curious 
and uncanny. For once we gazed upon our own ghosts 
and wondered whether they were our astral bodies. It 
might be that this rarefied air, this Mahomet-coffin position 
between heaven and earth separated the spiritual from the 
material. In that case where were our astral bodies off to ? 
What voyage of discovery ? Mars or Venus ? Were we 
bound for the mountains of the moon ? or an examination 
of the spots on the sun ? 

As we looked the vision gradually faded, just as ghosts 
fade away. We have seen ourselves at midnight in distant 
cathedrals. We saw them when Quasimodo was charming 
all our material senses to sleep in Tarragona, and nothing 
but the spiritual part of us was awake and alert. 

The effect was so strange on this mountain-top, the vi- 
sion so beautiful with all its rainbow hues, that as it faded 
we called to it to come back ; to stop ; to gladden our eyes 
yet a little. It was deaf to entreaty. We waited, hoping 
it would return. It did so in about four minutes, but this 
time it was fainter and more shadowy, as though the astrals 
had gone far on their journey, and were approaching the 
planets. Only a moment's vision was vouchsafed, and 
then all was over. But it was almost more beautiful and 
effective for its fleeting nature. Of course we understood 
how the effect was produced, but in the first moment we 
would not examine into causes, preferring to accept the 
spiritual and supernatural. 

We turned to the sun. As it sank into the mist, it 
seemed to create confusion and consternation in the clouds. 
They owed their life to the sun : he was about to disappear 
and they rebelled. There seemed a perfect convulsion 



202 SWITZERLAND 

going on amongst them. They tossed and rolled about and 
crept round the hills. Their motion was as rapid as it was 
fantastic. 

Then suddenly, in a flash, literally in a moment of time, 
they utterly disappeared ; and Geneva's lake was spread 
out before us in all its glory ; the sun still above the horizon 
flashing upon its surface. We could just discern a steamer 
ploughing the waters, looking no larger than a fly upon a 
wall. The whole thing was a dream-world ; fairyland ; 
a land of enchantment; anything but the ordinary earth on 
which we lived and moved. We had never felt so much 
in another state of existence. It was the experience of our 
sleeping hours come to life and reality. Even the people 
of the hotel said it was exceptional. And it seemed as 
though the mist had cleared for our special benefit, to give 
us that marvellous view, for it lasted about one minute only. 
Then vapours and clouds wreathed and tore up from the 
lake, and quickly as they had disappeared, so the whole vast 
valley once more filled with cloudland. 

The beauties of the afterglow were beyond all imagining 
in the sky and on the mountains. The white snow-peaks 
retained their flush ; the heavens were a deep, dark azure, 
out of which the stars came by-and-by like trembling points 
of liquid silver. 

Before this we had watched the human turkeys re-enter 
the train, which waited for them just beyond the hotel. 
The Herr Baron, with his three photographic machines, 
stepped in with his mihtary air and fierce moustache. Not 
a creature remained behind. Then the whistle shrieked 
— a funny sound up in these mountain regions — and the 
train began to serpentine through the snow until it entered 
the tunnel with another shriek, and we saw it no more. 



MONTREUX 203 

When it Issued out of that tunnel it would have returned 
to cloudland and the earth; the mist and the rain. We 
watched the afterglow as long as we could : as long as cir- 
culation kept going. When it stopped and we felt in 
jeopardy, it was time to go down. It was very cold, yet 
the air was so light and delicious that we were loath to leave 
it. We had never breathed anything so exhilarating, so 
health-restoring. 

H. C. made a short cut downwards and tobogganed over 
the hard snow, gradually warming to the speed of an ex- 
press train. Near the end of the slope, not far from the 
hotel, he suddenly disappeared, to our intense horror and 
amazement. We were paralyzed with fear. A patch of 
soft snow had let him in. We immediately had visions of 
a funeral, a Dead March in Saul, a great poet's life cut short, 
agonizing telegrams to heartbroken parents, sensational 
paper-paragraphs ; Lady Maria living just long enough to 
make another will ; and last, but not least, our blighted 
holiday. But in a moment he reappeared on the surface 
like a Jack-in-the-box, a black object upon the white snow, 
suggestive of im^-land and the lower regions. We even 
thought we smelt sulphur. Then he frantically waved his 
hat to intimate that he was none the worse for his trip into 
the bowels of the earth, and to encourage us to follow 
in his track. We unparalyzed and went down by the path. 
It was less adventurous, but slow and sure. 

As it happened there were no more passengers that night, 
and the last train did not run. So we had to do without 
our luggage, and the manager came to the rescue. We 
found the hotel very comfortable ; far more so than one had 
any right to expect seven thousand feet above the world. 
Instead of starvation fare, there was abundance and excel- 



204 SWITZERLAND 

'ence. The rooms were admirable, and the views from the 
vindows over the mountain ranges would have atoned for 
any amount of shortcomings. 

There was no sunrise the next morning, and so the 
waiter did not wake us at five o'clock as he had been bid- 
den. '' He thought it a pity to disturb ces messieurs^ as there 
was nothing to see." And yet, when we did get up, the 
sun shone so brilliantly that we wondered whether the 
waiter had not overslept himself and taken refuge in philan- 
thropy. We never knew. For ourselves, we had passed 
a night in the agonies of neuralgia, and falling asleep at 
last long after the small hours, should not have been in a 
very good mood for turning out in the grey dawn, icy cold, 
to enjoy sunrise effects. 

A notice in our room much amused us. " Visitors at the 
hotel were begged not to take the blankets off their beds 
when they get up to see the sunrise : the porter having 
special blankets for the occasion." We imagined the 
graceful procession of perhaps fifty people of all ages, 
dimensions and weights starting, struggling on their pilgrim- 
age to the top, in all stages of deshabille^ one following 
another — like turkeys again — all wrapped up in blankets 
over head and ears ! Could these unpicturesque people be 
Covers of the beautiful in Nature ? 

We shall never forget that quiet Sunday at the Rochers 
de Naye. 

All traces of neuralgia had left us and never came again. 
We had the whole morning to ourselves up to the arrival 
of the first train towards mid-day. All clouds had disap- 
peared. We climbed to the Observatory. The view was 
magnificent, sublime, bewildering; there is no adjective 
strong enough to express the reality. To-day everything 



MONTREUX 205 

was visible ; and so rarefied was the air that everything 
seemed near. » 

Now we saw what vast precipices we overlooked ; how, 
if we had hurled ourselves into cloudland yesterday, we 
should not have floated on for ever in realms Elysian, but 
met sudden death in some yawning crevice, or on the point 
of some jutting rock. Far down below us, looking like a 
dream, stretched Geneva's fair lake flashing warm in the 
sunshine. A white-winged boat upon its surface looked 
like a small toy. The houses on its borders were just dis- 
cernible. Everything down there was green and summer- 
like, and far up the mountain-slopes there were sunny nooks 
where fir-trees grew and chalets nestled. 

But we were in a white world. The sun shining upon 
the snow was dazzling. The whole range of mountain 
peaks uprose pure and white and bridal-like, stretching to- 
wards the sky, blue, calm, holy as we had never felt it be- 
fore. Here we traced the upper valley of the Rhone ; and 
we even imagined we could just discern the far-ofF Rhone 
Glacier, where the famous river takes its source. It was 
Sunday, but every day spent in such delicious solitude must 
be a Sabbath. There was no church here of man's build- 
ing, nor was it needed ; we were in the midst of a vast 
heavenly temple ; a building not made with hands ; and we 
seemed very close to the portals of heaven itself. There 
were no clashing peals to irritate with their cracked inces- 
sant noise, but if we listened attentively, rising out of the 
depths and across the chasms, all about the mountain slopes 
we heard the sweetest, softest stealing of invisible bells ; 
chimes not struck upon earthly metal, but belonging to 
paradise. We heard them distinctly; the air was full of 
their melody. It is an illusion peculiar to mountain-tops ; 



2o6 SWITZERLAND 

to the centre of the wide ocean ; to all vast solitudes. We 
have heard it over and over again j it is the music of the 
spheres ; and to us this morning it sang of praise and thanks- 
giving for the beauties of earth. Every hour brought a 
change of light-and-shadow effect ; a change of colouring ; 
a succession of lovely and perfect scenes. 



LA GRUYERE 

VICTOR TISSOT 

LA GRUYERE is the most picturesque part of the 
Canton of Fribourg, the mountainous part shut in 
by the Vaudois and Bernese Alps. It is the Ober- 
land of French Switzerland, — an Oberland without glaciers, 
but without railways ; an Oberland with diligences 2t.nA knap- 
sacks, simple, gay, charming, hon-enfant^ without pretentious 
hotels with gilded dining-rooms, waiters like apes, and bills 
higher than the Jungfrau. It is still the old hospitable 
Switzerland, idyllic and pastoral. Its hotels are inns ; but 
how comfortable one is there, how much at one's ease, and 
at what ludicrous prices ! You can have pension^ — service, 
light, and bedroom, everything included, for four or five 
francs a day. 

We descend by a delicious road, shaded by tHe protect- 
ing branches of the great pines. A torrent, the Hongrin, 
roars at our feet. Near an old bridge the path divides ; 
crossing the water, you go towards Montbovon and Chateau 
d'Oex, the valley of Rougemont, and Zweisimmen. Con- 
tinuing the first road and taking the hill on the slope, we 
arrive at the little village of Albeuve, on the way to 
Gruyere, to Charmey and Bulle. 

Now it is pastures that we cross, rich, fat pastures, where 
we find a few rustic houses with pots of flowers in their 
windows; and round them, like a double girdle, one varie- 



2o8 SWITZERLAND 

gated and one all green, lie a garden and a vineyard. 
Splendid cows browse among the succulent herbs swelled 
with the aromatic juices which perfume the milk of which 
''iie celebrated Gruyere cheeses are made. They are known 
and appreciated throughout the world, but by one of those 
^whimsicalities which it is impossible to explain, the admi- 
rable little country which gives name to them is still neg- 
lected and almost ignored by the foreigner ; and yet where 
will you find more velvet lawns, more fresh and tranquil 
woods, paths so shady and sweet, mountains where you can 
have excursions to your wish, either restful walks or easy 
ascents not exceeding 8,200 feet ? 

The triumph of Gruyere is in its wooded hills, with clear- 
ings opening on wide horizons of jagged peaks and pro- 
found gorges, clothed nevertheless in a unique verdure, 
where hundreds of herds graze. It is a land of vigour and 
health, rich in soil, rich in climate, and, above all, rich in 
streams which water and fertilize it with their rocky de- 
posits. It maintains an unequalled race of oxen, and its 
^alleys have the fertility of the Norman plains and the 
fieauty of the food-producing countries ; and, above all, it 
is the country of devoted hearts, of lofty souls, of open 
minds. 

Gruyere has given birth to a crowd of eminent men who 
have made themselves illustrious in politics, in literature, in 
arts and sciences ; and it has been the cradle of the liberal- 
ism of Fribourg. It is from there that the signal has been 
given for all the noble revolts ; and it was the mountaineers 
who, with their cudgels, drove the Oligarchal Government 
of 1830 from Fribourg. 

In 1798, the French were welcomed nowhere in the Can- 
ton with more enthusiasm than in Gruyere. In every vil- 



LA GRUYERE 209 

lage they planted the tricolour. Bands of armed peasants 
marched, singing, to meet the French battalions. 

One is specially struck in mountainous countries with the 
intimate relations which subsist between man and the soil 
on which he dwells. These mountaineers, full of the energy 
of this powerful Nature, are of extraordinary strength, with 
the muscles of athletes j and they have the joy" the open, ro- 
bust cheerfulness, of their beautiful mountains, of their 
mild and smiling valleys; but in the good-nature of the 
peasant of Gruyere there is a charming vein of mischief, a 
touch of finely pointed irony. 

If it is true that the soul of a people is to be found in 
its songs, the " Ranz, des Vaches^' the national song of 
Gruyere, reveals their whole soul to us. It is not only the 
song of melancholy, of the homesickness in which the ex- 
patriated Swiss sees again as in a musical vision the chalet 
in which he was born, the mountains where the herds shake 
their bells as they graze, it is a satirical song as well, 
— a delightful picture of their manners, of their keen 
and quick wit. 

Gruyere is planted on the summit of a lofty isolated knoll 
overlooking the Sarine, the valley of Upper Gruyere, and 
the long plain of Lower Gruyere. Its castle rises with a 
look of royal magnificence into the blue sky, with its 
towers, its pointed roofs, its sparkling tin weather-cocks, its 
red dormer-windows, its broad white facade, pierced with 
great bright windows, and a little wood thrown like a velvet 
carpet at its feet. Its founder must have been not only a 
warrior, but an artist, for he could not have chosen a finer 
situation, more conspicuous, more beautifully framed. 
When you see a drawing, or photograph, of Gruyere, you 
would say it was a vignette of the Fifteenth Century ; the 



210 SWITZERLAND 

road, paved with great pebbles, rises with the steepness of a 
scaling-ladder to a double gate flanked with salient towers 
like pepper-boxes, with a little round way for the sentry. 
The houses, in massive stone, constructed with very high 
dormers, and hanging galleries for observation and defence, 
are set close together, and form a rampart j the belfry of the 
Maison de \^ille lifts its slender spire, which is seen from 
every quarter, and higher up, at the extremity of the hill, 
surrounded by strong walls, intrenched behind a second 
rampart, we see the red roofs of the castle and its towers. 

Here we are climbing like goats the road which leads to 
the little town. The ascent is rough, the pavement uneven 
and angular. This cart-track is called the "track of the 
dead," and after a few steps it is easy to see it has not been 
made for the living. We pass under an old gateway of 
romantic effect, and arrive in front of a great wooden cross, 
on which hangs a bleeding, expiring Christ ; we find right 
before us a little stair, and ascending, we are in the prin- 
cipal street of the town — which has only two — in front of a 
curious house with its facade ornamented with heads of 
grinning clowns, rams' heads, armorial bearings, suns. Its 
gargoyles are like the jaws of serpents ; the windows of the 
first floor are framed in fine, lace-like sculptures, while those 
of the ground floor are curiously paired, married in assorted 
couples. The door, with its arch of a carmine red, is all orna- 
mented with old iron-work in strange arabesque designs. 
This house, of an architecture unique in Switzerland, and 
constructed by Italian masons in the middle of the Fifteenth 
Century, is the old house of the Count of Gruyere's fool, 
Gerard Chalamala. Inside, old frescoes are still to be found 
on the walls, and fragments of mottoes, which could only 
have been thought out by a fool, — 



LA GRUYERE 211 



C( 



A spotted toad met on the way does not diminish the 
splendid majesty of the mountains, the beauty of the land- 
scape, the freshness of the springs, the caressing sweetness 
of the meadows." 

" Little souls alone have the secret of little souls." 

"The resignation which is acquired with age, and which 
we take for the fruit of reflection and wisdom, is nothing 
but the first decay of the mind and of the strength of the 
soul." 

We mount to the castle by a gentle slope, passing under 
the gate St. Germain and in front of an almshouse, its 
windows gay with delicious flowers, great bushes of china- 
asters, red geraniums, and pinks, which hang like draperies 
of old rose-coloured silk. Near the road a religieuse is 
weeding a garden in which are growing some very green 
lettuces, carrots, onions and parsley. Some old men, al- 
ready as dry as mummies, are leaning against the hedge, or 
sitting half asleep on the trunks of trees. 

The castle is open at every hour of the day with a liberality 
of which only a proprietor as amiable as M. Balland is capa- 
ble. We come first to a wide esplanade planted with trees, 
a terrace forming a rampart at the top of a steep escarp- 
ment. From the first step we see with what respect for 
both art and tradition, with what love, this castle has been 
preserved. None of those ridiculous additions which dis- 
close a bourgeois spirit without taste and without pity. No 
glazed round towers, no Chinese kiosks on this vast forti- 
fied terrace, from which the eye can embrace all the mag- 
nificence of Lower Gruyere, — that great basket of verdure 
in the midst of which the red roofs of Bulle look like a heap 
of apples. The eye reaches as far as the Gibloux Moun- 
tains, which stretch away in a diminishing perspective of 



212 SWITZERLAND 

woods and meadows. To the right, the Sarine, cold 
daughter of the Sanetsch glacier, winds its silver links be- 
low the chapel of Les Marches, — spoiled by a stupid addi- 
tion, — and washes with its waves the little clifF on which 
still stands the empty steeple of the old church of Broc. A 
little higher is the village of the same name, its white and 
brown houses on a line with the top of the hills. And 
still farther in the depths of the blue valley are Charmey, 
Valsainte, the Black Lake, and the twisted peaks of the 
valley of Bellegarde, and of the Rio du Motelon, — regions 
of rugged mountains with battlements of rocks, veritable 
fortresses in granite, like the Gastlosen, the Inhospitable. 

Opposite the Dent de Broc, a harsh peak that seems to 
rend the sky rises on the left. It is the king of the Fribourg 
Alps, the Moleson. A whole people of inferior mountains 
appear as if bending before him j and at his base, on the 
first slopes of a little hill, we can see a new chalet with a 
sculptured balcony, and with tall poplars beside it, waving 
like plumes in the wind ; it is the Baths of Montbarry, in 
the solitude and repose of an eclogue. 

We enter the castle, crossing a little court, the walls of 
which are fortified on the side of the esplanade. This 
double circumvallation made a surprise impossible. A spiral 
stair leads to the second story, — the most curious from a 
historical and archaeological point of view. A roof in com- 
partments with cranes (grues) of silver, a fireplace which 
bears engraved on its wide front the coats-of-arms of the 
counts, frescoes representing the principal deeds and the 
legendary episodes of the history of Gruyere, make this 
great hall quite a princely placec To begin with, here is 
Gruerius arriving first in the country and giving to it the 
name of the bird painted on his banner. Then there is the 



LA GRUYERE 213 

founding of a pious abbey, the departure of the Gruyeriens 
for the Crusade, with the cry, " It is for us to go ; come 
back who can ! " ^ Another painting shows a flock of goats, 
with horns on fire, putting the Bernese soldiers to flight. 
The women of Gruyere were alone in the town ; seeing 
themselves attacked, they tied torches and lighted tapers 
to the horns of their goats, and during the night drove them 
towards the encampment of the enemy. The terrified 
Bernese, thinking they had to deal with a legion of demons, 
fled at their quickest. Further, we see a Count of Gruyere, 
with an enormous white plume, delivering a noble foreign 
jady as prisoner in the castle of Rue. A very careful com- 
position illustrates the legend of Jehan TEscloppe, received 
at the table of the countess, and announcing to her the birth of 
a son. Last of all there are the two heroes, Clarimboz and 
Bras-de-Fer, who themselves, with their heavy double-edged 
swords, kept a whole crowd of Bernese at bay. These 
frescoes are the work of the former proprietor of the castle, 
a Genevese artist, M. Daniel Bovy. 

The tower of torture has been transformed into a museum 
of arms. The old tattered banners which hang on the walls 
have been dyed on glorious battle-fields. One of these flags 
was taken by the Gruyeriens from the Savoyards at the 
battle of Morat. 

The corridors are encumbered with old carved chests, 
and other valuable old furniture, and in high glazed cup- 
boards are piled collections of rare objects, precious pottery, 
curious trinkets, gathered from almost everywhere at great 
pains and cost. Looking at all this wealth of art and the 
truly marvellous state of preservation of this castle, we ask 
ourselves what would have become of it if by chance it had 
* " S'agit d'aller, reviendra qui pourra ! 



214 SWITZERLAND 

fallen into other hands. The State was about to sell it to a 
contractor for building materials, for no one could be found, 
even among the Fribourg nobility, to save the historical 
monument from certain destruction, when two Genevese, 
MM. J. and Daniel Bovy, offered the same sum as the 
mason, engaging to restore and preserve the castle. Daniel 
Bovy, a pupil of Ingres, then came and installed himself 
at Gruyere. The round tower was an abyss, the terrace 
a potato-field; the roofs were in holes, as if they had sus- 
tained a rain of small shot ; the rooms, which had served as 
prisons and guard-rooms for the gendarmerie^ gave out suf- 
focating odours, and their walls were adorned with sentences 
which had not been inspired by M. the Cure ; the wind 
howled at night, rushing in at the broken windows; every- 
thing was in a state of dilapidation and ruin. The Gothic 
chests in the count's chamber had served as racks for guns. 
When once the great repairs were finished and the walls 
whitened, all Daniel's comrades, all the artists with whom 
he had studied in Paris, arrived like a valiant army of 
decorators. And Corot, Fran^ais, Leleux, Baron, Menn, 
executed these admirable panels, and these beautiful me- 
dallions which make of one of the halls on the first floor a 
marvellous Louis XVth salon. Corot painted there a small 
view of an ideal Gruyere, all golden, with a superb tree in 
the foreground ; he also painted a wood-cutter in a lofty 
forest, — a spot of red among the green. Baron dressed 
beautiful ladies in toilets with furbelows and collarettes of 
aristocratic elegance ; Fran^ais threw off an admirable land- 
scape ; Leleux painted flowers and garlands that seem to 
wave. This Watteau-like salon in the severe Gothic castle 
has the effect of a parterre of flowers in the midst of a pine 
wood. 



LA GRUYERE 215 

And to think that there are people so devoid of senti- 
ment of every kind as to deplore that the castle of Gruyere 
has become the property of a Genevese family ! The res- 
toration of this old manor has cost a fortune. It is not 
only the most beautiful old castle in Switzerland, but it is, 
besides, a historical and archaeological museum which would 
be the pride of a great State. 



THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI 

JOHJNN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE 

WE left Salenche behind us in a lovely open 
valley ; during our noonday's rest the sky had 
become overcast with white fleecy clouds, 
about which I have here a special remark to make. We 
had seen them on a bright day rise equally fine, if not still 
finer, from the glaciers of Berne. Here, too, it again 
seemed to us as if the sun had first of all attracted the light 
mists which evaporated from the tops of the glaciers, and 
then a gentle breeze had, as it were, combed the fine va- 
pours, like a fleece of foam over the atmosphere. I never 
remember at home, even in the height of summer (when 
such phenomena do also occur with us), to have seen any 
so transparent, for here it was a perfect web of light. Be- 
fore long the ice-covered mountains from which it rose lay 
before us ; the valley began to close in ; the Arve was 
gushing out of the rock ; we now began to ascend a moun- 
tain, and went up higher and higher, with the snowy sum- 
mits right before us. Mountains and old pine forests, either 
in the hollows below or on a level with our track, came out 
one by one before the eye as we proceeded. On our left 
were the mountain-peaks, bare and pointed. We felt that 
we were approaching a mightier and more massive chain of 
mountains. We passed over a dry and broad bed of stones 
and gravel, which the water-courses tear down from the 
sides of the rocks, and in turn, flow among and fill up^ 




m 
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on 



s 

D 
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X 



THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI 217 

This brought us into an agreeable valley, flat and shut in by 
a circular ridge of rocks, in which lies the little village of 
Serves. There the road runs round some very highly 
variegated rocks and takes again the direction towards the 
Arve. After crossing the latter, you again ascend ; the 
masses become constantly more imposing, nature seems to 
have begun here with a light hand, to prepare her enormous 
creations. The darkness grew deeper and deeper as we 
approached the Valley of Chamouni, and when at last we 
entered it, nothing but the larger masses were discernible. 
The stars came out one by one, and we noticed above the 
peaks of the summits right before us, a light which we could 
^ot account for. Clear, but without brilliancy, like the 
Milky Way, but closer, something like that of the Pleiades; 
^t rivetted our attention until at last, as our position changed, 
like a pyramid illuminated by a secret light within, which 
could best be compared to the gleam of a glow-worm, it 
towered high above the peaks of all the surrounding moun- 
tains, and at last convinced us that it must be the peak of 
Mont Blanc. The beauty of this view was extraordinary. 
For while, together with the stars which clustered round it, 
it glimmered, not indeed with the same twinkling light, but 
in a broader and more continuous mass, it seemed to belong 
to a higher sphere, and one had difficulty in thought to fix 
its roots again in the earth. Before it we saw a line of 
snowy summits, sparkling as they rested on the ridges cov- 
ered with the black pines, while between the dark forests 
vast glaciers sloped down to the valley below. 

My descriptions begin to be irregular and forced ; In fact, 
one wants two persons here, one to see and the other to 
describe. 

Here we are in the middle village of the valley called 



2i8 SWITZERLAND 

Le Prieure, comfortably lodged in a house, which a widow 
caused to be built here in honour of the many strangers 
who visited the neighbourhood. We are sitting close to the 
hearth, relishing our Muscatel wine from the Vallee d' Aost 
far better than the lenten dishes which were served up for 
our dinner. 

Nov. 5, /77p. {^Evening.) 
To take up one's pen and write, almost requires as great 
an effort as to take a swim in the cold river. At this mo- 
ment I have a great mind to put you ofF, by referring you 
to the description of the glaciers of Savoy, given by that 
enthusiastic climber, Bourrit. 

Invigorated, however, by a few glasses of excellent wine, 
and by the thought that these pages will reach you much 
sooner than either the travellers or Bourrit's book, I will do 
my best. The Valley of Chamouni, in which we are at 
present, lies very high among the mountains, and, from six to 
seven leagues long, runs pretty nearly from south to north. 
The characteristic features which to my mind distinguish 
it from all others, are its having scarcely any flat portion, 
but the whole tract, like a trough, slopes from the Arve 
gradually up the sides of the mountain. Mont Blanc and 
the line of mountains which runs off from it, and the masses 
of ice which fill up the immense ravines, make up 
the eastern wall of the valley, on which, throughout its 
entire length, seven glaciers, of which one is consider- 
ably larger than the others, run down to the bottom of the 
valley. 

The guides whom we had engaged to show us to the ice- 
lake came to their time. One was a young active peasant, 
the other much older, who seemed to think himself a very 



THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI 219 

shrewd personage, who had held intercourse with all learned 
foreigners, well-acquainted with the nature of the ice- 
mountains, and a very clever fellow. He assured us that 
for eight-and-twenty years — so long had he acted as guide 
over the mountains — this was the first time that his serv- 
ices had been put in requisition so late in the year — after 
All Saints' Day, and yet that we might even now see every 
object quite as well as in June. Provided with wine and 
food, we began to ascend Mont Anvert, from which we 
were told the view of the ice-lake would be quite ravishing. 
Properly I should call it the ice-valley, or the ice-stream j 
for looking at it from above, the huge masses of ice force 
themselves out of a deep valley in tolerable smoothness. 
Right behind it ends a sharp-pointed mountain, from both 
sides of which waves of ice run frozen into the principal 
stream. Not the slightest trace of snow was as yet to be 
seen on the rugged surfaces, and the blue crevices glistened 
beautifully. The weather by degrees became overcast, and 
I saw grey, wavy clouds, which seemed to threaten snow, 
more than it had ever yet done. On the spot where we 
were standing is a small cabin, built of stones, loosely piled 
together as a shelter for travellers which in joke has been 
named " The Castle of Mont Anvert." An Englishman 
of the name of Blaire, who is residing at Geneva, has 
caused a more spacious one to be built at a more convenient 
spot, and a little higher up, where, sitting by a fireside, you 
catch through the window a view of the whole Ice-Valley. 
The peaks of the rocks over against you, as also in the 
valley below, are very pointed and rugged. These jags are 
called needles, and the Aiguille du Dru is a remarkable 
peak of this kind, right opposite to Mont Anvert. We 
now wished to walk upon the Ice Lake itself, and to con- 



220 SWITZERLAND 

sider these immense masses close at hand. Accordingly we 
climbed down the mountain and took nearly a hundred 
steps round about on the wave-like crystal clifFs. It is 
certainly a singular sight, when standing on the ice itself, 
you see before you the masses pressing upwards and di- 
vided by strangely shaped clefts. However, we did not 
like standing on this slippery surface, for we had neither 
come prepared with ice-shoes, nor with nails in our usual 
ones ; on the contrary, those which we ordinarily wore had 
become smooth and rounded with our long walk ; we, 
therefore, made our way back to the hut, and after a short 
rest were ready for returning. We descended the moun- 
tain and came to the spot where the ice-stream, step by 
step, forces its way to the valley below, and we entered the 
cavern, into which it empties its water. It is broad, deep, 
and of the most beautiful blue, and in the cave the supply 
of water is more invariable than further on at the mouth, 
since great pieces of ice are constantly melting and dissolv- 
'mg in it. 

Chamouni^ Nov. 6^ 1779' (^^^^0 
Content with seeing all that the early season allows us to 
see, we are ready to start again, intending to penetrate as 
far as Valais to-day. A thick mist covers the whole val- 
ley and reaches half way up the mountains and we must 
wait and see what wind and sun will yet do for us. Our 
guide purposes that we should take the road over the Col 
de Baume a lofty eminence, which lies on the north side 
of the valley towards Valais, from the summit of which, 
if we are lucky, we shall be able to take another survey of 
the Valley of Chamouni and of all its remarkable objects. 
Whilst I am writing, a remarkable phenomenon is pass- 



THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI 221 

!ng along the sky. The mists which are shifting about, 
and breaking in some places, allow you through their open- 
ings as through skylights, to catch a glance of the blue sky, 
while at the same time the mountain peaks, which rising 
above our roof of vapour, are illuminated by the sun's rays. 
Even without the hope it gives of a beautiful day, this sight 
of itself is a rich treat to the eye. 

We have at last obtained a standard for judging the 
heights of the mountains. It is at a considerable height 
above the valley that the vapour rests on the mountains. At 
a still greater height are clouds, which have floated off up- 
wards from the top of the mist, and then far above these 
clouds you see the summits glittering in the sunshine. 

It is time to go. I must bid farewell to this beautiful 
valley and to you. 

Martinac in Valais^ Nov. 6^ 1779' {^'vening.) 
We have made the passage across without any mishap, 
and so this adventure is over. The joy of our good luck 
will keep my pen going merrily for a good half hour yet. 

Having packed our luggage on a mule, we set out early 
(about 9) from Prieure. The clouds shifted, so that the 
peaks were now visible and then were lost again ; at one 
moment the sun's rays came in streaks on the valley, at the 
next the whole of it was again in shade. We went up the 
valley, passing the outlet of the ice-stream, then the glacier 
d' Argentiere, which is the highest of the five, the top of it, 
however, was hidden from our view by the clouds. On 
the plain we held a counsel, whether we should or not take 
the route over Col-de-Balme and abandon the road over 
Valorsine. The prospect was not the most promising ; 
however, as here there was nothing to lose and much per- 



222 SWITZERLAND 

haps to gain, we took our way boldly towards the dark 
region of mists and clouds. As we approached the Glacier 
du Tour the clouds parted and we saw this glacier also in 
full light. We sat down a while and drank a flask of wine, 
and took something to eat. We now mounted towards the 
sources of the Arve, passing over rugged meadows and 
patches scantily covered with turf, and came nearer and 
nearer to the region of mists, until at last we entered right 
into it. We went on patiently for a while, till at last as we 
got up higher, it began again to clear above our heads. It 
lasted for a short time, so we passed right out of the clouds 
and saw the whole mass of them beneath us spread over 
the valley, and were able to see the summits of all the 
mountains on the right and left that enclosed it, with the 
exception of Mont Blanc, which was covered with clouds. 
We were able to point them out one by one and to name 
them. In some we saw the glaciers reaching from their 
summits to their feet, in others we could only discern their 
tracks, as the ice was concealed from our view by the rocky 
sides of the gorges. Beyond the whole of the flat surface 
of the clouds, except at its southern extremity we could 
distinctly see the mountains glittering in the sunshine. 
Why should I enumerate to you the names of summits, 
peaks, needles, icy and snowy masses, when their mere 
designations can furnish no idea to your mind, either of the 
whole scene or of its single objects ? 

It was quite singular how the spirits of the air seemed to 
be waging war beneath us. Scarcely had we stood a few 
minutes enjoying the grand view, when a hostile ferment 
seemed to arise within the mist, and it suddenly rose up- 
wards and threatened once more to envelop us. We com- 
menced stoutly ascending the height, in the hope of yet 



THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI 223 

awhile escaping from it, but it outstripped us and enclosed 
us on all sides. However, perfectly fresh, we continued to 
mount, and soon there came to our aid a strong wind, blow- 
ing from the mountain. Blowing over the saddle which 
connected two peaks, it drove the mist back again into the 
valley. This strange conflict was frequently repeated, and 
at last, to our joy, we reached the Col-de-Balme. The view 
from it was singular, indeed unique. The sky above the 
peaks was overcast with clouds ; below, through the many 
openings in the mist, we saw the whole of Chamouni, and 
between these two layers of cloud the mountain summits 
were all visible. On the east we were shut in by rugged 
mountains, on the west we looked down on wild valleys, 
where, however, on every green patch human dwellings 
were visible. Before us lay the valley of Valais, where at 
one glance the eye took in mountains piled in every variety 
of mass one upon another, and stretching as far as Martinac 
and even beyond it. Surrounded on all sides by mountains 
which, further on towards the horizon, seemed continually 
to multiply and to tower higher and higher, we stood on the 
confines of Valais and Savoy. 

Some contrabandists, who were ascending the mountains 
with their mules, were alarmed at seeing us, for at this sea- 
son they did not reckon on meeting with any one at this 
spot. They fired a shot to intimate that they were armed 
and one advanced before the rest to reconnoitre. Having 
recognized our guide and seen what a harmless figure we 
made, he returned to his party, who now approached us and 
we passed one another with mutual greetings. 

The wind now blew sharp and it began to snow a little 
as we commenced our descent, which was rough and wild 
enough, through an ancient forest of pines, which had taken 



224 SWITZERLAND 

root on the faces of the gneiss. Torn up by the winds, the 
trunks and roots lay rotting together and the rocks which 
were loosened at the same time were lying in rough masses 
among them. 

At last we reached the valley where the river Trent takes 
its rise from a glacier, and passing the village of Trent, 
close upon our right, we followed the windings of the val- 
ley along a rather inconvenient road, and about six reached 
Martinac, which lies in the flatter portion of the Valais. 



HOSPICE AND PASS OF ST. BERNARD 

HUGH MACMILLJN 

LEAVING our conveyance at the inn, and taking 
with us the mule and driver as guide, we set off on 
foot across the plain, to the entrance of a kind of 
gorge, called the Defile de Marengo, which is exceedingly 
steep and difficult of ascent. A considerable stream, con- 
fined within narrow bounds, roars and foams within a few 
feet of the pathway, so that in wet weather its swollen 
waters must render the defile impassable. Among the 
rocks, wherever any particles of soil lodged, rich cushions 
of moss spread themselves, wild auriculas nestled in the 
crevices, and large patches of crow-berry and blackberry 
bushes fringed the pathway up to within a short distance of 
the Hospice ; and nowhere in Scotland have we seen the 
fruit so plentiful or so large and luxurious. Basketfuls 
could be gathered in a few minutes without diverging more 
than a yard or two from our course ; and yet it seems never 
to be touched. The sides of the stream were decked with 
the large wooly leaves and brown flowers of the Alpine 
Tussilago^ which takes the place at this elevation of the com- 
mon butter-bur, whose enormous umbrella-like leaves form 
such a picturesque adornment of lowland rivulets. After 
an hour's stiff ascent, we came to two ruinous looking 
chalets^ built of loose stones, one of which served as a place 
of refuge for cattle, while the other was the old morgue, 
uow used as a shelter place for travellers, where they wait. 



226 SWITZERLAND 

if overtaken by storms, till the servants of the monastery 
come down with a dog to their rescue, which they do every 
morning when the weather is unusually severe. They 
bring with them on such occasions wine and provisions to 
restore the exhausted and half-frozen traveller j and guided 
by the faithful dogs, who alone know the way, — thirty feet 
of snow being not unfrequently accumulated in the worst 
parts of the pass, — they are all brought safely to the hospi- 
table shelter of the convent. From this point the defile re- 
ceives the ominous name of the Valley of Death ; and the 
track is marked by tall, black poles, and here and there a 
cross, marking the scene of some tragic event. Within a 
short distance of the Hospice, an iron cross commemorates 
the death of one of the monks who perished on that spot 
by an avalanche in November, 1845. Between these grim 
memorials of those to whom the place has been indeed the 
valley of the shadow of death we toiled up the rough and 
arduous path, panting and perspiring, greatly aided by our 
alpenstocks. For my own part, I thought the way would 
never end. I turned corner after corner of the defile, but 
still no trace of human habitation. My knees were about 
to give way with fatigue, the rarity of the air was making 
itself known to me in thirst and headache, my pulse had 
advanced from sixty beats at Martigny to eighty-three at 
this elevation, and I would gladly have rested awhile. At 
•last, at the very summit of the pass, I saw the Hospice 
looming above me, its windows glittering in the setting sun. 
Fatigue and weariness all forgotten, I eagerly clambered up 
the remaining part of the ascent, along a paved road over- 
hanging a precipice, and in a few minutes stood beside the 
open door. At first I could hardly realize the fact that the 
convent, about which I had read so much, which I had 




o 
Pi 
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ta 
I— » 

O 



HOSPICE 227 

so often seen in pictures and pictured in dreams, was actu- 
ally before me. It had a very familiar look, appearing 
exactly as I had imagined. I did not approach it in the 
orthodox fashion, — exhausted and half- frozen amid the 
blinding drifts of a snow-storm, and dragged in on a dog's 
back ! On the contrary, the evening was calm and sum- 
mer-like ; the surrounding peaks retained the last crim- 
son blush of the exquisitely beautiful ahend-gluhen^ or 
after-glow of sunset ; the little lake beside the convent 
mirrored the building on its tranquil bosom ; the snow 
had retreated from the low grounds, and only lingered 
on the lesser heights in the form of hardened patches 
wedged in the shady recesses of the rocks. I could not 
have seen the place under more favourable auspices ; and 
yet nevertheless, the scene was inexpressibly forlorn and 
melancholy. There was an air of utter solitude and 
dreariness about it which I have never seen equalled, and 
which oppressed me with a nameless sadness. There was 
no colour in the landscape, — no cheerful green, or warm 
brown, or shining gold, such as relieves even the most 
sterile moorland scenery in this country. Everything was 
grey, the rocks were grey, the lake was grey, the vege- 
tation was grey, the sky was grey ; and when the even- 
ing glow vanished, the lofty peaks around assumed a 
livid ghastly hue, which even the sparkling of their snowy 
drapery in the first beams of the moon could not enliven. 
Not a tree, not a shrub, not even a heather bush, was in 
sight. It seemed as if Nature, in this remote and elevated 
region, were dead, and that I was gazing upon its shrouded 
corpse in a chamber draperied with the garments of woe. 

The monastery itself is a remarkably plain building, des- 
titute of all architectural pretentions. It is in fact a huge 



^28 SWITZERLAND 

barn, built entirely for use and not for elegance. It con- 
sists of two parts — one fitted up as a chapel, and the other 
containing the cells of the monks, and rooms for the ac- 
commodation of travellers, divided from each other by 
whitewashed wooden partitions. It is built in the strongest 
manner, — the walls being very thick, and the windows 
numerous, small, and doubly-glazed, so as most effectually 
to withstand the fearful storms of winter. There is a small 
separate building on the other side of the path, called the 
Hotel de St. Louis, which is used as a granary, and as a 
sleeping place for beggars and tramps. It also provides a 
refuge in the case of fire, from which the Hospice has fre- 
quently suffered severely, being on two occasions nearly 
burnt to the ground. Ladies were formerly entertained in 
this building, as it was deemed out of place to bring them 
into the monastery. But these scruples have now been 
overcome, and ladies are freely admitted to all parts of the 
place, and allowed to sleep in the ordinary rooms. 

The St. Bernard Hospice is the highest permanent habi- 
tation in Europe, being 8,200 feet above the level of the 
sea, or twice the height of Ben Nevis. There are, indeed, 
several chalets in the Alps that are still higher, but they are 
tenanted only during the three summer months, when the 
people employ themselves in tending goats and manufactur- 
ing cheeses from their milk. About the end of September 
they are deserted, and the shepherds descend to the valleys. 
The severity of the climate at the Hospice is so great, that 
the snow never leaves the level ground for nine months in 
the year. Snow showers are almost always falling, even in 
the mildest weather ; and there are scarcely three successive 
days in the whole year free from blinding mists and biting 
sleet. The mean temperature is 30° Fahrenheit, exactly 



HOSPICE 229 

that of the South Cape of Spitzbergen. In summer it never 
exceeds 48°, even on the hottest day j and in winter, par- 
ticularly in February, the thermometer not un frequently 
falls below 40° below zero, — a degree of cold of which we 
in this country can form no conception. What greatly in- 
creases the severity of the climate is the fact that the 
Hospice is situated in a gorge pierced nearly from northeast 
to southwest, in the general direction of the Alps, and con- 
sequently in the course of the prevailing winds ; so that, 
even in the height of July, the least breath of the bise^ or 
north wind, sweeping over the lofty snow region, always 
brings with it a degree of cold extremely uncomfortable. 
The effect of this bitter Arctic climate upon the monks, as 
might be expected, is extremely disastrous. The strongest 
constitution soon gives way under it. Headaches, pains in 
the chest and liver, are sadly common. Even the dogs 
themselves, hardy though they are, soon become rheumatic 
and die. Seven years is the longest span of their life, and 
the breed is with the utmost difficulty kept up. All the 
monks are young men, none of them having the grey hair, 
and long venerable beard, and feeble stooping gait, which 
are usually associated with the monastic fraternity. In 
fact, the intensity of the climate prevents any one from 
reaching old age. 

We mounted the stair in front of the door of the Hospice, 
and entered, preceded by our guide. In the wall of the 
vestibule we noticed a large black marble tablet, bearing the 
following inscription in gilt letters : Napoleoni I. Fran- 
corum Imperatori, semper augusto Reipublicae Valesianae 
restauratori, semper optimo ^gyptiaco, bis Italico, semper 
invicto, in Monte Jovis et Sempronii semper Memorando 
respublica Valesiae grata, 2 Dec. 1804. At the top of a 



230 SWITZERLAND 

short flight of steps, our guide rang a large bell twice, 
and immediately a door opened and a polite and gentle- 
manly monk appeared, dressed in a long black coat with 
white facings, and with a high dark cap, similarly decor- 
ated, upon his head. Pie welcomed us with much polite- 
ness, and beckoning us to follow him, conducted us through 
a long vaulted corridor dimly lighted by a solitary lamp, 
where the clang of an iron gate shutting behind us, and the 
sound of our own footsteps on the stone floor, produced a 
hollow reverberation. He brought us into a narrow room, 
with one deeply-recessed window at the end, containing 
three beds simply draped with dark crimson curtains, and 
all the materials for a comfortable toilet. There are about 
eighty beds for travellers of better condition in the mon- 
astery, and accommodation for between two and three hun- 
dred persons of all classes at one time. Speedily removing 
our travel-stains, we rejoined our host in the corridor, who 
showed us into the general reception room, where we found 
lights and a smouldering fire upon the hearth. The walls 
of the room lined with pine wainscot, were hung with en- 
gravings and paintings, the gifts of grateful travellers ; while 
in one corner was a piano, presented by the Prince of 
Wales shortly after his visit to the Hospice. Two long 
tables occupied the sides, covered with French newspapers 
and periodicals. We went instinctively at once to the fire, 
and had the satisfaction of crouching over the smouldering 
logs and admiring the beautifully carved marble mantle- 
piece. One of the monks very considerately came in with 
an armful of wood and a pair of bellows, and, replenishing 
the fire, speedily produced a cheerful blaze, which thawed 
us all into good humour and genial chattiness. 

Having arrived too late for supper, which is usually 



HOSPICE 231 

served at six, the dinner hour being at noon, an impromptu 
meal was provided for us and the other travellers who were 
in the same position. Though hastily got up, the cooking 
of it would have done credit to the best hotel in Martigny. 
It consisted of excellent soup, roast chamois, and boiled 
rice and milk, with prunes. A bottle of very superior red 
wine, which was said to be a present from the King of 
Sardinia, was put beside each person ; and a small dessert 
of nuts and dried fruits wound up the entertainment. 

After an hour or two's chat around the fire, and a very 
cursory but most interesting inspection of the pile of visi- 
tors' books, our host bade us all good-night, and I too was 
very glad to retire. 

About five o'clock in the morning, just as the grey dawn 
was stealing in, I was thoroughly roused from a dozing, 
semi-torpid state, into which I had sunk, by the ringing of 
the convent bell for matins ; and shortly afterwards the 
rich tones of an organ, mellowed by the distance, pealed 
from the chapel with an indescribably romantic effect. I 
arose and dressed with chattering teeth, and then went out 
into the raw air. I walked beside the small, desolate-look- 
ing lake beside the Hospice, where never fish leaped up and 
on which no boat has ever sailed. Being the highest sheet 
of water in Europe, fed by the melting snows, it is fre- 
quently frozen all the summer; and when thawed, it lies 
" like a spot of ink amid the snow." Passing a pillar at 
the end of the lake, and a curious heraldic stone beside a 
spring, I had crossed the boundary between Switzerland 
and Piedmont, and was now in Italy. Climbing up the 
bare rocks to a kind of esplanade, near a tall cross inserted 
in a massive pedestal of chloriteschist, and bearing the in- 
scription, " Deo Optimo Maximo," which guides the trav- 



232 SWITZERLAND 

eller from the Italian side of the pass to the convent, I sat 
down and surveyed the scene. The snowy dome of Mont 
Velan filled up the western horizon. On my left the gorge 
was shut in by the rugged range of Mont Mort, Mont 
Chenaletta, and the Pic de Dronaz. Below me, I could 
see, through the writhing mist, glimpses of the green corril, 
called " La Vacherie," where the cattle of the Hospice 
grazed under the care of a few peasants, whose wretched 
chalets were the only habitations : while beyond, to the 
southward, rose up a strange Sinai-like group of reddish 
serrated rocks, entirely destitute of vegetation, with wreaths 
of dark cloud floating across their faces, or clinging to their 
ledges, and greatly increasing their savage gloom. An air 
of utter desolation and loneliness pervaded the whole scene. 
No sounds broke the stillness, save such as were wonder- 
fully congenial with the spirit of the place, the sighing of 
the wind as it ruffled the surface of the lake, the occasional 
tinkle of the cow-bells far below, the deep baying of the 
St. Bernard dogs, or the murmur of a torrent far off, that 
came faint and continuous as music heard in ocean shells. 

It is impossible to gaze on the St. Bernard pass without 
feelings of the deepest interest. It stands as a link in the 
chain that connects ancient and modern history — departed 
dynasties and systems of religion with modern governments 
and fresh creeds ; and in this part the continuity has never 
been broken. Bare and bleak as is the spot, it is a palimp- 
sest crowded with relics of different epochs and civilizations, 
the one covering but not obliterating the other. All the 
nations of the earth — Druids, Celts, Romans, Saracens, 
French, Italians — seem to pass in solemn file, a dim and 
ghostly band, before your fancy's eye. Names that have 
left an imperishable wake behind them — Caesar, Charle- 



HOSPICE 233 

magne, Canute, Francis I., Napoleon — have traversed that 
pass. Europe, Africa and Asia have poured their wild 
hordes through that narrow defile. The spot on which the 
convent is erected was held sacred and oracular from time 
immemorial. It had a religio loci and a consecrated shrine 
from the remotest antiquity. The weird, wild aspect of the 
place gave it an air of terror, and naturally associated it with 
the presence of some mysterious supernatural being. On a 
little piece of level ground near the lake, called the Place 
de Jupiter, on which the ruinous foundations of an ancient 
Roman temple may still be seen, a rude altar, built of 
rough blocks of stone, was erected 3,000 years ago, and 
sacrifices offered on it to Pen^ the god of the mountains, 
from whom the whole great central chain of Switzerland re- 
ceived the name of Pennine Alps. Who the primitive 
people were that first erected the rude altar we know not — 
Celtic tribes, no doubt. For hundreds of years they held 
their territories undisturbed ; but the day came when they 
were compelled to yield to a foreign invader. Rome sent 
its conquering legions over the whole of Europe. The 
stupendous barrier of the Alps offered no obstruction. 
Through its passes they poured like an irresistible torrent, 
washing away all traces of the former peoples. They 
demolished the Druid temple and erected on its site a tem- 
ple dedicated to Jupiter Penninus. A substantial Roman 
road, well paved, was constructed over the mountain. It 
was used for centuries. In the Fifth Century, the Goths 
under Alaric, the Huns under Attila, and the Vandals under 
Genseric swept over the pass to subdue Italy and take pos- 
session of Rome. From that time, no event of importance, 
with the exception of the passage of the Lombards in 547, 
occurred in connexion with this spot, until Benhard, uncle 



234 SWITZERLAND 

of Charlemagne, marched a large army over it in 773. 
Charlemagne himself afterwards recrossed it at the head of 
his victorious troops, after conquering Didier, the last 
sovereign of Upper Italy. Then came Bernard de Men- 
thon in 962 and founded the Hospice which has received 
his name j and erected the first Christian altar. After this 
period the Saracens ravaged the convent and destroyed its 
records by fire ; and were in turn attacked and repulsed by 
the Normans. Humbert "the white-handed " led over the 
pass an army in 1034 to join Conrad in the conquest of 
Burgundy j and a part of the army of Frederic Barbarossa 
crossed in 11 66 under the command of Berthold de Zah- 
ringen. Pilgrims bound to Rome frequented it, travelling 
in large caravans for mutual protection from the brigands 
who infested it after the Saracen invasion ; and we find King 
Canute, himself a pilgrim to the tomb of St. Peter's, by his 
representations to the Pope and the Emperor Adolphus on 
behalf of his English pilgrim subjects, obtaining the extir- 
pation of those lawless bands, and the free and safe use of 
the pass. The present building was erected about 1680, its 
predecessor having been burnt. It is impossible to enumer- 
ate all the remarkable historical events which are connected 
with this place, from A. D. 59, when Caecina, the Roman 
general marched over it with the cohorts recalled from 
Britain, through a snow-storm in February, to the spring of 
1800, when Napoleon crossed it with an army of 80,000 
men and fifty-eight field-pieces on his way to the famous 
battle-field of Marengo. 

A little way beyond the Hospice, on a slightly rising 
ground, is a low building of one story, built in the 
rudest manner, and with the roughest materials. It is 
covered with a grey-slated roof j and in the wall of the 



HOSPICE 235 

gable which fronts you there is a narrow iron grating, 
through which the light shines into the interior. You look 
in, and never till your dying day will you forget the ghastly 
spectacle that then meets your eye. It haunted me like a 
dreadful nightmare long afterwards. This is the famous 
Morgue, or dead-house, of which all the world has heard, 
and which every one visiting the convent, whose nerves are 
sufficiently strong, makes a special point of seeing. It was 
indeed a Golgotha, forcibly reminding me of Ezekiel's vision 
of the valley of dry bones. Skulls, ribs, vertebrae, and other 
fragments of humanity, with the flesh long ago wasted away 
from them, blanched by sun and frost, lay here and there in 
heaps on the floor. As my eye got accustomed to the ob- 
scurity of the place, I noticed beyond this mass of miscel- 
laneous bones, separated by a low wall which did not ob- 
struct the view, an extraordinary group of figures. These 
were the bodies found entire of those who had perished in 
the winter's snow-storms. Some were lying prostrate, others 
were leaning against the rough wall, the dim, uncertain light 
imparting to their faces a strange and awful expression of 
life. Three figures especially attracted and rivetted my at- 
tention. In the right-hand corner there was a tall spectre 
fixed in an upright attitude, with its skeleton arms out- 
stretched, as if supplicating for the aid that never came, and 
its eyeless sockets glaring as if with a fearful expression. 
For years it has stood thus without any perceptible change. 
In another corner there was a figure kneeling upon the floor, 
muffled in a thick dark cloak, with a blue worsted cufF on 
the left wrist. No statue of the Laocoon ever told its tale 
of suffering more eloquently than did that shrivelled corpse. 
He was an honest and industrious workman, a native of 
Martigny. He set out early one December morning from 



236 SWITZERLAND 

that town, intending to go over into Italy in search of 
employment. He got safely and comfortably as far as the 
Cantine de Proz, where he halted for the night. Next 
morning he set out through the defile leading up to the 
Hospice. The weather was at first favourable, but he had 
not proceeded far when dark clouds speedily covered the 
sky from end to end, and the fearful guxen^ which always 
rages most violently in the Alpine passes, broke out in all 
its fury. He had doubtless fought against it with all his 
energy, but in vain. He was found, not three hundred 
yards from the convent door, buried among the deep snow, 
frozen in the attitude in which he still appeared, with his 
knees bent, and his head thrown back in hopeless exhaustion 
and despair. But the saddest of the sad sights of the 
Morgue is the corpse of a woman lying huddled up at the 
foot of the last-mentioned figure, dressed in dark rags. In 
her arms she holds a bundle, which you are told is a baby ; 
and her withered face bends over it with a fond expression 
which death and decay have not been able to obliterate. 
The light shines full on her quiet features, which are no 
more ruffled by earthly pain. You cannot fail to see that 
she had made every effort to preserve the life of the baby 
to the last moment, for most of her own scanty clothing is 
drawn up and wrapt round its tiny form, leaving her own 
limbs exposed to the blast. 

The number of accidents on the St. Bernard pass has 
greatly diminished of late years; and now the services of 
the monks in winter are principally required to nurse poor 
travellers exhausted by the difficulties of the ascent, or who 
have been frostbitten. Returning from my morning walk, 
I saw the famous Marons^ or St. Bernard dogs, playing 
aoout the convent door. There were five of them, mass- 



HOSPICE 237 

ively built creatures, of a brown colour, — very like New- 
foundland dogs, only larger and more powerful. The stock 
is supposed to have come originally from the Pyrenees. 
The services they have rendered in rescuing travellers are 
incalculable. A whole book might easily be filled with in- 
teresting adventures of which they were the heroes. In 
the museum at Berne I saw the stuffed body of the well- 
known dog " Barry," which is said to have saved the lives 
of no less than forty persons. The huge creatures were 
fond of being caressed ; and one of them ran after my 
companion, as he was going up the hillside by a wrong 
path, and pulled him back by the coat-tail. 

After a substantial breakfast, we paid a visit to the chapel 
to deposit our alms in the alms-box; for though the monks 
make no charge for their hospitality, or even give the least 
hint of a donation, there is a box placed in the chapel for 
the benefit of the poor, and to this fund every traveller 
should contribute, at the very least, what the same accom- 
modation would have cost him at an hotel. 

The expenses of the establishment are very heavy, while 
the funds to meet them have been decreasing. Formerly 
the convent was the richest in Europe, possessing no less 
than eighty benefices. But Charles Emmanuel III., of Sar- 
dinia, falling into a dispute with the Cantons of Switzer- 
land about the nomination of a provost, sequestrated the 
possessions of the monks, leaving them only a small estate 
in the Valais and in the Canton de Vaud. The French and 
Italian governments give an annual subsidy of a thousand 
pounds, while another thousand is raised by the gifts of 
travellers, and by collections made in Switzerland, — Prot- 
estants contributing as freely as Roman Catholics. Not- 
withstanding their comparative poverty, however, the monks 



238 SWITZERLAND 

are still as lavish and hospitable as ever, up to their utmost 
means. As it was the feast of the Assuniption of the 
Virgin, crowds of beggars and tramps from the neighbour- 
ing valleys, — masses of human degradation and deformity 
of the most disgusting character, — were congregated about 
the kitchen door, clamorous for alms, while the monks were 
serving them with bread, cold meat, and wine. What they 
could not eat they carried away in baskets which they had 
brought for the purpose. Entering the chapel with our lit- 
tle offering, we were greatly struck with its magnificence, 
as contrasted with the excessive plainness of the outside, 
and the sterility of the spot. It is considered a very sacred 
place, for it contains the relics of no less than three famous 
saints, viz., St. Bernard, St. Hyrenaeus, and St. Maurice, of 
the celebrated Theban legion of Christians. Five massive 
gilt altars stood in various parts of the chapel, while the 
walls were adorned with frescoes and several fine paintings 
and statues. The marble tomb of Desaix, representing him 
in relief, wounded and sinking from his horse into the arms 
of his aide, Le Brun, was a conspicuous object. " I will 
give you the Alps for your monument," said Napoleon, with 
tears in his eyes, to his dying friend: " you shall rest on 
their loftiest inhabited point." The body of the general 
was carefully embalmed at Milan, and afterwards conveyed 
to the chapel, where it now reposes. A crowd of peasants, 
men and women, were kneeling, during our visit, in the 
body of the church, performing their devotions ; while three 
or four monks, dressed in splendid habiliments of crimson 
and gold, were chanting " the solemn melodies of a 
Gregorian mass," accompanied by the rich tones of a mag- 
nificent organ j and clouds of fragrant incense rose slowly 
to the roof. 



HOSPICE 239 

Anxious to see the geographical bearings of the convent, 
we climbed up, with immense expenditure of breath and 
perspiration, a lofty precipitous peak close at hand. We 
had a most glorious view from the top, for the atmosphere 
was perfectly clear, and the remotest distances plainly visi- 
ble. In front was " le Mont Blanc," as the inhabitants 
proudly call it, and at this distance of fifteen miles in a 
straight line it looked infinitely higher and grander than 
when seen from the nearer and more commonly visited 
points of view at Chamouni. Far up, miles seemingly, in 
the deep blue sky, rose the dazzling whiteness of its sum- 
mit, completely dwarfing all the other peaks around it. On 
our left was the enormously vast group of Monte Rosa, its 
everlasting snows tinged with the most delicate crimson 
hues of the rising sun ; while between them the stupendous 
obelisk of the Matterhorn, by far the sharpest and sublimest 
of the peaks of Europe, stormed the sky, with a long grey 
cloud flying at its summit like a flag of defiance. Around 
these three giant mountains crowded a bewildering host of 
other summits, most of them above 13,000 feet high, with 
enormous glaciers streaming down their sides, and forming 
the sources of nearly all the great rivers of the Continent. 
My eye and soul turned away from this awful white realm 
of death, with relief, to the brown and green mountains of 
Italy, which just peered timidly, as it were, above that fear- 
ful horizon in the far south, with an indescribably soft, 
warm sky brooding over them, as if in sympathy. That 
little strip of mellow sky and naturally-coloured earth was 
the only bond in all the wide view that united me to the 
cozy, lowly world of my fellow-creatures. 



THE EGGISCHHORN AND THE GREAT 
ALETSCH GLACIER 



A 



F, BARHJM ZINCKE 

UGUST 27. — At 9 A. M., started for the ascent 
of the Eggischhorn. Reader, if you have also 
made the same start, let us go over the old ground 
together. If you have not, then let me endeavour to tell 
you of something you would be the better for seeing. Jean 
Ott u^e took with us for our guide. You must call to mind 
that we are setting out from a height of 7,000 feet above the 
level we are accustomed to at home. There are no trees 
above us, or to the right, or left. Our way is all over the 
flowery Alpine turf, interspersed with rocks. We shall 
have to climb not quite 2,000 feet more. After a time we 
shall lose the flowers and the turf; but of that presently. 
On this morning there had been scuds of rain, but the 
weather was evidently clearing for a fine day. When we 
had got about half a mile from the inn where the path takes 
a curve round a depression in the mountain-side, there came 
on a heavy shower. A party of Frenchmen were a little 
ahead of us. They did not like the rain, and returned to 
the inn. Just, however, at the point where we were, the 
rocks, which had railed down in bygone ages from the sum- 
mits above the depression, had, as you would have expected, 
lodged in the axis of the depression. At two or three steps 
from the path they are so piled up as that some project suf- 




w 
o 

l-H 

< 

u 



THE EGGISCHHORN 241 

ficiently to give shelter from rain. We clambered into one 
of these chance-formed cavities and remained in it, quite 
protected, till the rain was over. While there, we observed 
how the interstices were being filled up by the decay of 
mosses and lichens. In about twenty minutes the sun was 
again bright, and there were no more clouds likely to make 
showers, and so, without any misgivings, we resumed our 
ascent over the flowery turf, interspersed with rocks. We 
soon came to a descending rib of the mountain. From this 
we first saw ice, that of the Viescher glacier. Upon this 
we turned our backs and went up the mountain rib. The 
turf and flowers now began to die out. The little bright 
indigo Gentian became scarce. We then came upon loose 
rocky debris from the heights above, with a ravine between 
us and the summit of the Eggischhorn filled with this loose 
naked debris and stones. We rounded the top of this 
ravine by a good path, in places very narrow, and like a 
rude rock staircase. And now we were close to the sum- 
mit, which is composed entirely of a pile of clean slabs and 
blocks of rock, piled up into a steep mountain cone. It 
did not take us long to climb these clean slabs and blocks. 
Then we were on the summit — some dozen feet square, 
surrounded by a rail. 

In the last part of the ascent we had seen nothing but 
the place where, at each step, we were to set our foot. 
Now the last step of the ascent had been taken, and one 
step more would carry us down 2,000 feet, to the Great 
Aletsch glacier. All the great mountains and the great ice- 
field of the Bernese Oberland, are before us. For some 
moments not a word is spoken. If at that moment we 
had had anything to say, we should have done as well if we 
had stayed at home. 



242 SWITZERLAND 

Your first glance can only be at the great glacier so far 
beneath your feet. This, in your previous thoughts, had 
occupied the chief place in the scene you were coming to look 
upon, and have now reached. You wish at once to see 
what it is like and to ascertain your relation to it. It is a 
mile wide and looks precisely like what it is, a river of ice. 
All inequalities of surface are, from this height, effaced ; and 
it is, to the eye, as level, though not as glassy, as water. 
(\.nd no river could have such clearly defined banks, for 
here they are mountains escarped as regularly as if the width 
and grades of the enormous channel had been cut by human 
jiands working by plans and measurements. This is a con- 
spicuous feature : having observed it, you then raise your 
eyes to make out the relations of the glacier to the moun- 
tains on either side of it and beyond it. If you were to look 
across it, you would be looking west. But you do not begin 
by looking across it, because it is itself the great object ; 
and, therefore, you look up it. You see, following it up, 
that it takes a gentle curve a point or two to the west of north. 
For about five miles up it continues of about the same 
width. It then expands like an open fan. The fan-like ex- 
pansion is a continuation of about five miles more. This 
expansion is, in reality, the great snow-field that is the 
chief feeder of the glacier; and which not only feeds it, but 
also by its own descent compacts and forces forward the 
glacier. Around the further side of the expanded fan 
stand, beginning on the left, the Mittaghorn, the Gletscher- 
horn, the Jungfrau, the Monch, the Viescherhorn. These 
are more than ten miles off, but the distance offers much 
less, the objects being so large, and the atmosphere, at 
these heights, so clear. You see many black summits amid 
the snow, and many long, lofty scars j but of course the 



THE EGGISCHHORN 243 

snow on the summits that are unpeaked and on the sides 
that are not precipitous, preponderates in the scene. As 
these are the most prominent and interesting objects, you 
take mental photographs of them first. You then think of 
the Finster-Aarhorn. You soon find him before you, due 
north : of course, to the right of the great glacier and some 
little way back from it. By the air line he is seven miles 
from you. Between you and him is the Walliser Viescher- 
horn and several subordinate peaks. Between the Walliser 
Viescherhorn and the Finster-Aarhorn is the great snow-field 
that feeds the Viescher glacier we had a passing glimpse of as 
we were coming up. You now look across to the west 
side of the Great Aletsch. There you have before you the 
Aletschorn and an archipelago of connected peaks, entirely 
surrounded and everywhere permeated by snow-fields and 
glaciers. You see the confluence with the Great Aletsch of 
two of these subsidiary glaciers, the Mittler Aletsch, exactly 
opposite to you, and the Ober Aletsch four miles lower down. 
Of course you see but little of the glacier to the back of 
this archipelago; that is the Lotschen, the outflow of which 
passes down the Lotschenthal to join the Rhone at Grampel. 
Two miles below the junction of the Ober Aletsch, the 
Great Aletsch itself terminates. You can see almost to its 
termination. 

You have, then, from your lofty observatory, the whole 
of this marvellous scene spread out before you. No part of 
it is seen indistinctly. You have a full and clear view of the 
mountains supporting the snow-fields ; the snow-fields feed- 
ing the glaciers ; the lateral glaciers converging into the 
main-trunk glacier; the main-trunk glacier flowing by at 
your feet, a true river. Though the eye does not see the 
motion, the mind, aided by the eye, does. For you see that 



244 SWITZERLAND 

it is Streaked with the moraine lines, which came in with 
the lateral glaciers, and which it is, obviously, carrying on; 
and you see the wave-like marks on its surface, more ad- 
vanced, down stream, in the centre than on the sides, which 
tell you that the centre is moving faster than the sides. 
There is nothing to mar the unity, nothing wanting to the 
completeness, of this grand display of Alpine nature. 

In the Marjelensee there is even something de luxe. The 
north side of the Eggischhorn is as precipitous as the west ; 
in fact the north and west sides form a kind of right-angle ; 
and you are standing up in the air over this angle, at an 
elevation of 2,000 feet above the glacier, from which the 
summit takes its last rise — all but a vertical one on these 
sides. The north side is the south wall of a deep fissure, 
which connects the channel, the broad valley channel of 
the Aletsch with that of the Viescher glacier. This fissure 
is considerably lower than the surface of the Aletsch glacier ; 
but it is not of suflicient depth, or width, to allow any part 
of the Aletsch to pass into it, which also appears at this 
point to have its bearing on the opposite side. It, there- 
fore, flows by this depression in cliffs of ice. Just where it 
passes the depression or fissure is a little lake, occupying 
the first part of the depression. Its waters, therefore, wash 
against the ice-cliffs of the Aletsch, which are its western 
boundary. The water being slightly warmer than the ice has 
a tendency to undermine it ; and as the glacier has here lost 
its retaining wall of rock, and is somewhat expanded on the 
outer side of the curve it here makes, it comes to pass that 
masses of ice frequently detach themselves from the pass- 
ing ice-cliffs of the glacier and fall into the lake ; and then 
float off in the form of icebergs to the further end of the 
lake, from which point issues a little stream, the outflow of 



THE EGGISCHHORN 245 

the lake, which connects it when full with the Viescher 
glacier. As looked down into from the top of the Eggisch- 
horn, this little lake, with its green, glass-smooth water and 
white icebergs, — in part the cliffs from which they have 
fallen are of a tender blue, — and with the sober-coloured 
Alpine pasture occupying the rest of the depression and 
reaching down to the Viescher glacier, and with the black 
mountain on the north of it, is a sight that must be unique 
and is as charming and interesting as unique. 

But if not one of all the near objects we have just been 
looking at were visible from the Eggischhorn, still it would 
be worth climbing for the sake of the many distant objects 
it has to show you. On the north-east you may see the 
Todi, and on the south-west Mont Blanc — neither, of course 
on account of the distance, and of the intervening heights, 
very conspicuous. But all between — the many summits 
of the Zermatt Alps, Monte Leone, overlooking the 
Simplon, the Galenstock, and the summits of the St. 
Gothard group, are each grandly distinct ; and show — 
which is what they are — like the nucleus, the ganglion, the 
structural centre of a Continent. 

August 28. — At 9 A. M. we set out for the Bell Alp. 
Having passed my last night's lodging, we were, a few 
minutes afterwards, on the crest of the ridge. Once on 
the top, we were soon in sight of the great glacier. To 
reach it we had to pass through a somewhat dilapidated 
wood of ancient pines. This is the Aletschwald. Most 
of the woods of the Valais are dilapidated ; and in accord- 
ance with Valaisan practice we found here a flock of goats — 
of the black-jacketed strain — browsing on the undergrowth, 
and thus preventing a succession of young trees, to take, in 
their turn, the place of the old ones. As we were passing 



246 SWITZERLAND 

through the flock, I saw one, reaching over from a rock 
above, bite ofF the leader of a thrifty young birch. We 
were not long in descending to the glacier. As there 
might be some need of help on the ice, and certainly would 
be in the ascent on the other side, Ott had asked for an as- 
sistant porter. In crossing the ice there are no difficulties ; 
the passage took us a short half hour. You see no more 
of crevasses than just about enough to make you think that 
you had better not, through carelessness, slip into one of 
them. But as you look up the glacier, you see that half a 
mile or so above you it is composed of narrow ridges with 
crevasses between, so that it would be quite impossible, I 
suppose, either to ascend it or to cross it thereabouts. On 
the path we took we saw crossing, at the same time, men, 
women and children, a flock of goats, a herd of cows, and 
a horse. It is interesting to observe how unfailingly in 
travelling over such places, that is, where the way is diffi- 
cult or dangerous, animals arrange themselves in Indian 
file. 

You see a great deal in passing, of the indescribable clear 
blue of glacier ice — a tender, ethereal blue. Just as pearly 
pink, fiery red, fresh green and imperial purple give rise 
within us to correspondent emotions, almost ideas, so does 
this glacier blue. You have been admitted to look upon 
what has in it no smirch, no grossness, no warmth of 
earth — a purity not of this world. The man who can pass 
by this blue translucency without emotion, as if he had only 
looked upon a piece of blue serge, is of a hard heart and of 
a dull brain. His blood is thick. He is a lumpish Boeotian, 
a one-eyed Cyclops, a mentally distorted Caliban. 

At II A. M. we reached the Bell Alp Hotel. It is, I 
suppose, about 1,500 feet above the glacier, and about a 



THE EGGISCHHORN 247 

mile back from it. From the seats on the north-east of the 
house you look up a long reach of it. But now you see no 
blue. Of that I have just endeavoured to give my impres- 
sions : I must now do the same for the glacier as seen 
from this point. P'or all the world it looks like a grand 
highway in a vast mountain cutting. So regular are its 
surface and its sides that they appear to have been the en- 
gineering, we will not say of man, but of a race of giants 
that must have once been on the earth. It has, however, 
the appearance of being still used by their pigmy succes- 
sors, who never could have constructed it for themselves. 
They have retained it for their great north road — not the 
great north road of an island of no very considerable dimen- 
sions, but the great north road of a great continent. And 
it is now winter — for so it appears to be on the road as you 
are looking upon it — and the great road has been buried for 
some weeks in snow. And over this snow there has been 
a great deal of traffic ; for it is the mid continental road. 
And this traffic of a great continent has beaten the snow 
very hard and much besmudged it. And there had, too, 
been a previous deep fall of snow, which it had been neces- 
sary to heap up in the middle of the road. This heaped up 
snow shows as a long dirty ridge. This is the great cen- 
tral moraine. 

After you have seen it at the Eggischhorn, much nearer 
and much cleaner, and in combination with the snow-fields 
that feed it, this view, which only gives you a mile or two 
of the lower part of the glacier, does not much interest you 
from what is actually before your eyes. It only becomes 
interesting from what the mind supplies — from the inter- 
pretation the mind puts upon the intelligence telegraphed to 
it through the eye. As to that dirt upon the surface, the 



248 SWITZERLAND 

mind sees how it came there and that it is now being car- 
ried down before you to aid in forming fruitful valleys. As 
to the tender ethereal blue below the dirt, that is still visible 
to the searching mental eye which sees beneath the dirt. 
The mind asks how far down below the dirt does that blue 
reach ? None can say. There are, however, superficially, 
twenty miles of it, all of it a mile at least wide, much of it 
a great deal more, stretching away beyond what the bodily 
eye is beholding; and all this mass of solid yet ethereal 
blue was compacted out of little aery-light flakes of snow, 
and that was constructed out of little globules of floating 
vapour, and that had been pumped up from the far Atlantic 
by the sun, acting from a distance of many tens of millions 
of miles. And as this river of ethereal blue, so solid, so 
long, so broad, so deep, gravitates from the region of per- 
petual snow, aided, perhaps, by the irresistible expansion of 
ever-recurring internal congelation, it will gradually pass 
into another form and go to fill Lake Leman, and to feed 
the Rhine, on its way back to the Atlantic, only to go 
through again the same process. What a drama of nature 
passes before the mind as you sit on that bench alongside 
the hotel and look upon that Titan-engineered, deep-sunk, 
snow-buried, traffic-beaten, dirt-streaked road. 

From this point, your seat near the hotel, you may ob- 
serve that the glacier, as far as you can see it, is bordered 
on both sides by a perfectly clean margin of loose stones on 
the foot of either mountain. This margin appears to reach 
up from the glacier to the wood or turf or lichen-stained 
rock above, whichever it may be, for a space of two or 
three hundred feet. Its line is quite unbroken and uniform 
in height on both sides. It is a very marked feature when 
observed from this point. Of course all these are moraine 



THE EGGISCHHORN 249 

stones and rocks, and are now actually on the marginal ice 
of the glacier, or have been deposited somewhat above its 
margin, at times when the glacier, having been flowing at a 
higher level than at present, was again subsiding. 

From another seat, in front of the hotel, you look down 
on Brieg, 5,000 feet beneath you. Beyond Brieg you have 
a better view than at Rieder Alp of Monte Leone and of 
the Fletschhorn, with the zigzags of the Simplon in the 
wooded depression between them. If you turn your eye to 
the right or south-west you will have before you, some 
twenty miles off, the Zermatt Alps. This morning, when 
we first saw them, there was a level sea of unbroken cloud 
resting on their shoulders, which concealed everything 
below. The substructure was entirely lost and the snowy 
summits were floating on the sea of cloud. 



THE RHONE GLACIER 

T. G. BONNET 

VERY few highways — at any rate in Europe — afford 
such a view ofaglacier as is obtained from the zig- 
zags of the new carriage road over the Furka Pass. 
It may be said to be unique, in respect both of the great ex- 
tent of glacier which is visible from it, and for the longtime 
during which it remains in the neighbourhood of the ice. 
There are only three other vtews at all of the same kind in 
the Alps : the Mortaratsch Glacier from the Bernina road ; 
the Ortler Glaciers, from the Stelvio ; and the Meije 
Glaciers from the Lautaret ; but in no one of these 
is the ice-stream so close to the highway or so com- 
pletely skirted as on the western slope of the Furka Pass. 
Here, as soon as the traveller arrives at the apex of the 
second great curve of the new road, on his descent towards 
the Ober-Valais, the vast basin of the Rhone Glacier is 
spread before him. Encircled by a coronet of snowy peaks, 
lie the wide reservoirs of neve which feed the ice fall below. 
Here and there some Inequality in the rocky floor fissures 
this mighty cake of snow; and through a telescope we can 
even see the layers, bed above bed, like bands of masonry, 
which successive winters or successive storms have piled 
up in the course of years. Over these yawning chasms, 
whose gigantic size we can ill realize at this distance, long 
fringes of icicles droop, or gracefully curving volutes of 
snow hang like breaking waves. Below this wide expanse. 




P4 

I— ( 

u 

< 
o 

o 

H 



THE RHONE GLACIER 251 

and nearer at hand, the glen occupied by the glacier des- 
cends more rapidly, the ice-stream is hemmed in between 
steep rocky walls, and shattered into a wilderness of crags. 
Rent by a myriad fissures, it becomes a tumbled cascade of 
icy blocks, carved by the sun*s rays into fantastic forms — 
spires, domes, pinnacled ridges, and a hundred strange 
shapes. As you stand and watch, now some icy tower 
comes crashing down, now some huge block of stone slides 
from its moorings, and with a thundering roar is swallowed 
up in the blue depths of a neighbouring chasm. Lower 
down the slope diminishes, the glacier approaches the level 
floor of the Rhone valley, and the rents disappear as the ice 
again welds itself together. Here and there, indeed, fresh 
fissures open, but they scarce disturb the gentle curves 
which round ofF in every direction the end of the glacier, 
till it almost resembles the paw of a gigantic monster 
protruded from his rocky fastness. 

Not seldom this is the first glacier of which a near view 
is obtained by the novice in Alpine travel ; and few^ if any, 
are better fitted for studying all the phenomena of these ice- 
streams, and testing the various theories which have been 
advanced. We are. Indeed, here on classic ground. Old 
Dr. Scheuchzer — who crossed the Furka In the year 1705 — 
gives in his book a rude plate of the Rhone Glacier, in 
which its principal features may be distinguished, though 
the engraver has obviously not understood the sketch ; and 
also takes it as a text for a general discussion on the history 
and theories of glaciers, in which queer odds and ends of 
classic lore, strange fancies and acute observations, are 
curiously mingled. After him came De Saussure, the father 
of scientific Alpine travel, who thrice visited the Rhone 
Glacier (on one occasion with a Lord Palmerston, " Connu 



252 SWITZERLAND 

par son gout pour les lettres et pour les beaux arts *'), and gives 
a brief description of its appearance, which shows that no 
important change has taken place since then. Agassiz, 
Tyndall, and many others have noticed it in more or less 
detail ; although it does not appear ever to have been 
selected as a locality for continuous study, like the neigh- 
bouring glaciers of the Aar, or the Mer de Glace of 
Chamouni. At this place a brief sketch of the mode of 
formation of a glacier may be acceptable to the reader. 
Glacier ice differs from ordinary ice in one important re- 
spect, namely, that it exhibits no trace of regular structure. 
A block of ice from a river or lake shows on examination 
that it has been formed layer upon layer, in regular order, 
as film after film of the liquid crystallized on those already 
deposited. Glacier ice shows ho such structure j it is com- 
pacted, solidified snow, which has been slowly converted 
into ice by the pressure of the upper layers upon the lower, 
the crushing which it undergoes on its passage over and 
through inequalities in its rocky channel, and the re-freez- 
ing of the water, which trickles downwards into the mass 
when its surface snow is exposed to the sun's rays. A 
glacier then has its origin in a snowy basin or reservoir 
high up in some mountain glen. Here many feet of snow 
are precipitated every winter, and the store is augmented by 
the avalanches which in the spring pour down from the sur- 
rounding slopes. As a rule, for reasons which we will not 
now discuss, most upland glens have some slight resemblance 
in shape to a spoon, — a more or less bowl-like head or crown, 
drained by a more restricted channel. Thus, as the snowy 
mass moves downwards, it becomes crowded or "jammed " 
in approaching the gateway which leads from its birth 
chamber to the passage conducting to the lower world. 



THE RHONE GLACIER 253 

Crushed in this great Bramah press of Nature, it loses all 
trace of its original composition ; the bedded frozen snow 
is converted into solid ice, and generally has a new structure 
developed in it, consisting of alternate bands of blue and 
white ice. This, which is in no way related to the original 
stratification, is believed, like cleavage in rock, to be the 
result of pressure, and is called the " veined structure." 
As these two kinds of ice do not melt at the same rate — 
the blue ice being much more compact than the white — 
this peculiar banding is often conspicuous from a consider- 
able distance. The rocky declivity down which the glacier 
now passes is commonly broken here and there by steps j the 
ice-stream, unable to endure the strain to which it is subjected 
in passing over these is shattered by great chasms, called 
schrunde in the German and crevasses m the French Alps ; 
and the broken fragments, as described above, are carved by 
the sun's rays into endless forms. Even without these in- 
equalities in its line of descent, a glacier would be some- 
what fissured ; for it has been discovered that, like a river, 
its middle moves more rapidly than its sides, and this un- 
equal motion of course exposes the mass to strains, under 
which it readily yields. At last its descent is accomplished, 
and the more level and open bed of the valley is reached ; 
the broken fragments pressed together at the foot of the 
steeper slope, quickly unite in virtue of a property termed 
regelation, by means of which two pieces of wet ice freeze 
together when placed in contact. The solid mass moves 
slowly on, exposed to no strains but those of its own 
weight, owing to which a number of comparatively small 
crevasses open about its curved edge, radiating inward like 
the sticks of a fan. All through its descent it has been 
siowly melting under the sun's heat, and the water from its 



254 SWITZERLAND 

surface is sooner or later engulfed in one of the chasms. 
The various rills thus produced continue their course, unit- 
ing, as they would above ground, while following the line 
of descent, till one or more sub-glacial torrents are formed, 
each of which at last issues from beneath the glacier under 
a magnificent arch of blue ice. 

Nothing can be more beautiful than the exquisite tints of 
the recesses of these caverns ; few things more dangerous 
than their allurements ; for large blocks of ice not unfre- 
quently fall from the roof without the slightest warning, 
and have more than once proved fatal to unwary intruders. 
These caverns are generally regarded as the sources of the 
rivers. In the case, however, of the Rhone, the natives 
refuse to recognize this as its birthplace, because the stream 
from it shrinks in the winter time to very small dimensions, 
and point to a spring in a meadow a short distance from 
the glacier, as the true source of the river, because its flow 
is uninterrupted summer or winter. The claims of this,, 
which have been elaborately discussed by Scheuchzer and 
De Saussure (who makes some interesting remarks upon 
the high temperature of its water), will probably not be ad- 
mitted by the traveller, who will deem the ice cave a 
worthier source of one of the greatest European rivers. 

For the physical cause of glacier motion — a question as 
yet by no means quite settled — we must refer the reader to 
the works of Dr. Tyndall and the late Principal Forbes ; to 
give even a summary of the controversy would occupy far 
more space than we can spare. One point more we must, 
however, notice, as it has an especial interest in reference 
to the Rhone Glacier. From the rocks which border the 
ice-stream masses are from time to time detached, and fall 
upon its margin. These are swept along ; and when two 



THE RHONE GLACIER 255 

glaciers come together the stony fringes unite and form a 
central stripe, which often runs like an elevated causeway 
down the glacier. Many of these fragments are engulfed 
in the crevasses, and are crushed between the ice and its 
rocky bed ; from this other fragments are torn off, and so 
the base of the glacier acts like a gigantic file upon the 
rocks beneath, breaking off prominences, wearing down as- 
perities, and producing a peculiar, smoothed, rounded con- 
tour; this can be readily recognized, and from its resem- 
blance to the outline of a sheep's back, has obtained for such 
rocks the name of roches moutonn'ees. The surface of these 
is sometimes actually polished by the ice rubber; it is 
always more or less grooved or scratched by the harder and 
larger fragments. The bigger blocks and such parts of the 
moraine as are not swallowed up are at last deposited at 
either the side or the end of the glacier as the ice-stream 
melts away ; and large boulders are sometimes left curiously 
poised on projecting bosses of rock. 

Hence it is evident that, by means of these indications, 
the path or trail of a glacier may be identified with certainty 
in places from which it has retreated. Some distance in 
advance of the present extremity of the Rhone Glacier are 
three or four crescentiform ridges of broken stones, each 
marking a pause in the retreat of the glacier. These, how- 
ever, do but record a comparatively unimportant phase in 
its history. Grand as we think it, the glacier is now but 
the dwindled representation of its former self. Time was, 
long ages before history began, when the glacier of the 
Rhone extended all down the valley, and, swelled by a 
hundred tributary streams from the Pennine and Oberland 
Alps, filled up the basin of the Lake of Geneva, and welled 
up against the flanks of Jura a thousand yards above 



256 SWITZERLAND 

Neuchatel. All those slopes of alp and forest, all those 
straths of meadow from the base of the present glacier to 
Villeneuve, all the vineyards and cornfields of Vaud and 
Geneva, the sites of hundreds of villages, of tovi^ns, of 
villas and gardens, now gay with oleanders, pomegranates, 
and magnolias, were then buried deep under gigantic ice- 
streams, almost rivalling in vastness those which launch 
their fleets of icebergs into the Arctic and Antarctic Oceans. 



SCHAFFHAUSEN. HANDECK. REICHEN- 
BACH, AND LAUTERBRUNNEN 

SAMUEL MANNING 

TRAVERSING the Black Forest by the Hollenthal 
and the Himmelreich, we enter Switzerland at 
SchafFhausen. The town itself deserves and will 
repay a visit from the lovers of mediaeval architecture. 
The walls, the gates, the halls of the old Guilds or Ziinfte, 
the projecting gables, carved and painted in the quaintest 
fashion, compete in point of picturesqueness with those of 
Belgium or Germany. It is the Falls of the Rhine, how- 
ever, which form the great attraction of SchafFhausen. 
The river, which is here about three hundred feet in 
breadth, plunges over the black rocks with a tremendous 
and deafening roar. The mass of water is greater than that 
of any other cataract in Europe. But it lacks height and 
suddenness. It is a rapid rather than a waterfall. 

Is it possible to describe a waterfall ? Can words repre- 
sent that wonderful combination of monotony with intense 
tumultuous motion which constitutes its charm ? If suc- 
cess is possible, Mr. Ruskin has attained it in his descrip- 
tion of the Falls of the Rhine. 

"Stand for half an hour," he says, " beside the Fall of 
SchafFhausen, on the north side where the rapids are long 
and watch how the vault of water first bends, unbroken, in 
pure polished velocity, over the arching rocks at the brow 
of the cataract, covering them with a dome of crystal 



258 SWITZERLAND 

twenty feet thick, so swift that its motion is unseen except 
where a foam-globe from above darts over it like a falling 
star ; and how the trees are lighted above it under all their 
leaves at the instant that it breaks into foam ; and how all 
the hollows of that foam burn with green fire like so much 
shattering chrysoprase ; and how, ever and anon, startling 
you with its white flash, a jet of spray leaps hissing out of 
the fall, like a rocket, bursting in the wind and driven away 
in dust, filling the air with light ; and how, through the 
curdling wreaths of the wrestling crashing abyss below, the 
blue of the water, paled by the foam in its body, shows 
purer than the sky through white rain-cloud ; while the 
shuddering iris stoops in tremulous stillness over all, fading 
and flushing, alternately through the choking spray and 
shattered sunshine, hiding itself at last amongst the thick 
golden leaves which toss to and fro in sympathy with the 
wild water j their dripping masses lifted at intervals, like 
sheaves of loaded corn, by some stronger gush from the 
cataract, and bowed again upon the mossy rocks as its roar 
dies away; the dew gushing from their thick branches 
through drooping clusters of emerald herbage, and sparkling 
in white threads along the dark rocks of the shore, feeding 
the lichens which chase and chequer them with purple and 
silver." 

On the way from the Grimsel to Meyringen, by the 
Ober Haslithal, traces of bygone glacial action are distinctly 
visible, proving that at some former period the glaciers of 
Switzerland must have been far more extensive and numer- 
ous than at present. At one place the path passed over 
granite rocks polished smooth by the grinding motion of 
the ice and cut into long deep grooves by the masses of 
stone which have been carried down by it. 




H 
O 

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SCHAFFHAUSEN 259 

At Handeck, about five miles from the hospice, the falls 
of the Aar are passed. The river, after struggling through 
a narrow channel cut out of the solid rock, suddenly 
plunges over a rocky ledge into a dark chasm 200 feet 
deep. Another torrent, the Arlenbach, comes down from 
the opposite side of the ravine and makes it spring so that 
their waters meet in mid career. The din and fury of the 
falling torrents, the savage sublimity of the surrounding 
scenery, the gusts of wind that sweep up the narrow gorge, 
driving before them clouds of spray, and the rainbow span- 
ning the falls, combine to make the scene one of rare 
grandeur. 

From the Grimsel to Handeck the scenery, though very 
grand, is somewhat monotonous in its utter sterility. All 
is bleak and desolate. Vegetation seems annihilated, except 
in the form of rhododendrons, mosses and lichens. Crags 
scarred with tempests, peaks riven as by thunderbolts, tor- 
rents raging over their rocky beds, glaciers creeping down 
the mountain-sides, fill the scene. But from Handeck 
downwards, the Ober Haslithal is transcendently beauti- 
ful. The river, rushing along swiftly and rejoicingly, 
makes music to the ear. The pine forests yield their grate- 
ful shade. Through frequent glades and openings the 
grand mountain-forms of the Bernese Oberland may be 
descried. Alpine flowers bloom in richest profusion. 
The combination of soft tender beauty with stern savage 
grandeur is most pleasing. There are few more agreeable 
memories of a tour in Switzerland than that of a fine day 
between Meyringen and the Grimsel. 

The Reichenbach Falls form the chief attraction at 
Meyringen. I know no spot where the tourist can better 
study the arrowy character of a waterfall. The stream here 



26o SWITZERLAND 

is considerable, and it takes a fine buoyant header ofF a 
shelf of rock upon the hard stone floor of the chasm below. 
Of course it bursts and splashes off all round with much 
noise, and flings so much spray up the sides of the basin into 
which it leaps as to supply material for a number of baby 
falls, which run back like young ones to their parent. 
But its arrowy character is its most striking feature. It Is 
like a sheaf of water-rockets rushing downwards. The 
moment the stream leaps clear off the rock, it begins to 
form these barbed shoots. 

The scenery all along the road from Meyrlngen to 
Grindelwald is magnificent. The peaks of the Oberland 
are in view the whole day. The Englehorn, the Well- 
horn, the Shreckhorn, the Eigher replace one another as 
the road winds along. Approaching Grindelwald the huge 
masses of the Wetterhorn seem absolutely to overhang the 
path. The glaciers which stream down through the 
dark pine woods to the bright green pastures of the valley 
complete a scene of surpassing loveliness and grandeur. 

Continuing our journey across the Wengern, the road 
gradually loses the barrenness and sterility which charac- 
terize the Grindelwald side, and plunges downwards through 
pine woods and luxuriant pastures and well-kept farms into 
the valley of Lauterbrunnen. The numerous chalets which 
stud the mountain-side add greatly to the picturesqueness of 
the scenery. The pine-wood of which they are constructed 
acquires a rich, brown colour from smoke and exposure to 
the atmosphere. They contrast finally with the bright 
emerald green of the pastures, or the savage rocks and black 
gloomy forests overhead. But, like many other things in 
this world, they are more pleasing at a distance than close 
^t hand, 



SCHAFFHAUSEN 261 

The name of the valley into which we descend, Lau- 
terbrunnen, means Nothing but fountains ! Few names could 
be more appropriate and descriptive. Innumerable stream- 
lets, after careering for some time out of sight on the higher 
Alps, spring over the abrupt cliffs and buttresses of the 
rock, or leap down the smooth grassy slopes which enclose 
this delicious valley, reaching the bottom in showers of 
spray. When mists rest upon the surrounding mountains, 
as is often the case, the effect is very curious ; the cascades 
seem to dangle from the clouds, hanging like long skeins of 
silver thread over the perpendicular cliffs. The supreme 
beauty of these falls is only seen in the forenoon of a bright 
day, when the waving spray of each is changed into a 
shower of rainbows. 

The principal cascade in the valley is the Staubbach, that 
is The dust fall. It takes its name from the fact that in the 
course of its descent the whole mass of water is beaten into 
spray, and falls to the ground like a shower of diamond 
dust. It is the loftiest fall In Europe, springing over the 
perpendicular face of the cliff at a height of 900 feet from 
the ground. A German writer has compared the Reichen- 
bach to a wild irregular ode, the Giesbach to an epic, the 
fall at Handeck to a sublime hymn and the Staubbach to 
a fairy tale. Wordsworth calls it 



"This bold, this pure, this sky-born waterfall. 
Byron writes : 

** The sunbow's rays still arch 
The torrent, with the many hues of heaven. 
And roll the sheeted silver's waving column 
O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular. 



» 



262 SWITZERLAND 

And fling its lines of foaming light along. 
And to-and-fro, like the pale courser's tail 
The giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, 
As told in the Apocalypse." 



Murray compares it to a beautiful lace veil, suspended 
from the cliffs above, waving over the face of the moun- 
tain. Cheever says of it : " It is the most exquisitely 
beautiful of waterfalls, though there are miniatures of it in 
the Valley of the Arve almost as beautiful. You have no 
conception of the volume of water, nor of the grandeur of 
the fall until you come near it, almost beneath it ; but its 
extreme beauty is better seen and felt at a little distance; 
indeed we thought it looked more beautiful than ever when 
we saw it, about ten o'clock, from the mountain ridge on 
the opposite side of the valley. It is nearly 900 feet in 
height, over the perpendicular precipice, so that the eye 
traces its course so long, and its movement is so checked 
by the resistance of the air and the roughness of the moun- 
tain, that it seems rather to float than to fall, and before it 
reaches the bottom, dances down in ten thousand little jets 
of white foam, which all alight together, as softly as a 
white-winged albatross on the bosom of the ocean. It is 
as if a million of rockets were shot off in one shaft into the 
air, and then descended together, some of them breaking at 
every point in the descent, and all streaming down in a 
combination of meteors. So the streams in this fall, where 
it springs into the air, separate and hold their own as long 
as possible, and then burst into rockets of foam, dropping 
down at first heavily, as if determined to reach the ground 
unbroken, and then dissolving into showers of mist, so 
gracefully, so beautifully, like snow-dust on the bosom of 



SCHAFFHAUSEN 263 

the air, that it seems like a spiritual creation, rather than a 
thing inert, material." 

There is no doubt that the beauty of the fall varies at 
various times. In a wet season, or after a copious rainfall, 
it is a very striking object. But when a long drought has 
yet further diminished the small quantity of water which 
ordinarily comes over the mountain-side the effect is dis- 
appointing. It is said that in winter, when the torrent is 
nearly arrested by frost, colossal icicles are formed, many 
hundred feet in length, some hanging down from above, 
others rising up, like enormous stalagmites from beneath. 

A delightful walk of about three hours along the banks 
of the Lutschine brings the tourist to Interlaken. The 
valley of Lauterbrunnen should, however, be traversed in 
the opposite direction. In ascending from Interlaken the 
scenery increases in grandeur and the snowy peaks of the 
Jungfrau are continually in view, advantages which are lost 
in descending the Wengern Alp. 



ST. GOTHARD 

WILLIAM HEP WORTH DIXON 

THE sun is sinking on a cloud of summits as we 
pace the road which winding up the Siedeln alp 
and vaulting over by the Furka, weds the two 
great valleys of the Rhone and Reuss, and brings the 
Simplon pass into connexion with the Gothard pass. 

A mist is rising in our front from horn and glacier, from 
the Grimsel ridges, from the Gelmer snow-fields, from the 
Handeck falls, a mist which swells the solar disk and turns 
the flame to fire. Athwart this thickening haze the light 
is flashing into lengths and streams and the white clouds 
above these lengths of light are rolling into curves and 
crowns. The colours melt and deepen as we gaze. A mo- 
ment since the tints were amber, rose and blue 5 but while 
we speak that amber burns to gold, that pink grows crim- 
son, and that blue is purple, brown and black. Afar ofF, 
in the Bernese Oberland, two pyramids of earth — the 
Shreckhorn and the Finster Aar-horn — part these ever 
widening waves ; two dark and mighty cones, which tower 
above the highest wreaths of cloud. 

Our right is bounded by the Rhone glacier ; a scarf of 
frozen ice ; here rough with shales of slate, there dark with 
drifts of dust. So near us lies this shining fall that we can 
peer into the rents and watch the play of green and rosy 
light within them. Down below, the surface of the glacier 
has been smoothed and rounded by the noon-day heat ; 




< 

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CO 



ST. GOTHARD 265 

along our level it is jagged and broken by the midnight 
chill. A ravine passes to our left — a sombre ravine, which 
ascends the ridge on which the Muttbach feeds; and over 
this dark parting of the ridges rise the Mutt-horn, Schaf- 
berg. Tell Alp, Saas-horn ; while beyond these peaks, and 
partly hidden from our sight, extend those granite walls 
which press the summer back upon Italian lakes. Below 
these masses, in the groove between the Mutt-horn and the 
Grimsel, flow the waters of the Rhone — here lost to sight 
among the rocks, there flooding out among the trees and 
fields — past Oberwald and Obergestelen, then through long 
green reaches, lit with roof and spire — sweet notes of life 
and home in the stern desert of an Alpine night. Up 
north and west, above the Grimsel, spread the crests and 
gulfs to which no spring, no autumn, ever comes ; a realm 
where it is always either frost or fire ; where chain is laid 
on chain, and peak is piled on peak ; with domes and falls 
of ice, with sweeps and drifts of snow and pinnacles of 
rock too sharp for either flying mist or driving rain to 
clutch. Beyond the Grimsel stretch the Gauli glacier, the 
lesser and the greater Grindelwald glaciers, the Kander 
glacier, the two Aar glaciers, the Lotschen glacier, the 
Miinster glacier, and the Aletsch glaciers, hanging on the 
sides and dripping at the feet of the secondary alps ; while 
high above these seas of ice roll up vast fields of granulous 
snow, too high for sun to melt ; and over these white 
fields, the humps and teeth of Jungfrau, Wetter-horn and 
Monsch, with yon twin pyramids of earth, the Schreck- 
horn and the Finster Aar-horn, which divide the flashing 
lines of light — as though they stood in arms, two mountain 
kings, to guard their brides and captives from a bold, cru- 
sading sun. 



266 SWITZERLAND 

Yet nobler than such wintry masses and to larger use and 
purpose, swells the group of heights on which we stand — 
the crown of the St. Gothard chain, the central range of 
Europe, where her valleys run to meet each other whence 
her rivers rise and flow to east and west, and over which 
the Frank and Teuton pass to Lombardy, while the Italian 
climbs towards Germany and France. 

This central group of the St. Gothard chain, like other 
mountain systems, has her trough, her platform and her 
cardinal peak. 

Her trough is Urseren — the Uri valley — once an Alpine 
lake, like that of Wallenstadt in form and size, but lying in 
a loftier bed. The lowest hamlet in this hollow stands four 
thousand and six hundred feet above the sea. A green but 
treeless basin, into which the snow comes down with the 
September chills, and nestles in the clefts and gullies till the 
latest day in June, this trough is watered by the Reuss, a 
stream which, rising near the Furka, brawls past Re Alp, 
Hospenthal, and Andermatt, until it issues from the trough 
near Teufelstein. Some firs creep meekly up St. Ann's — 
an alp round which the last few flights of the St. Gothard 
road wind up — but they are dwarfed in size and thinned in 
mass by the exceeding cold. Some herdsmen, guides and 
muleteers, who live by aiding people on their way, have 
built in Urseren the thorpes in which a passenger finds food 
and fire. 

Her platform is not so sharply marked by nature; for the 
ridges flow into each other, and the ravines break these 
ridges here and there — as at St. Gothard, Six Madun, the 
Devil's Bridge and Langis Grat ; but still, an oval, some- 
what roughly drawn, with Re Alp for a central point, 
would sweep the edges of this platform. Draw a line from 



ST. GOTHARD 267 

Rhone-stock by the Gersten-horn, across the valley of the 
Rhone to Saas-horn and Lucendro, round the Lago Sella to 
Six Madun, and thence to Toma, Aldez, Siiisen, Teufel- 
stein, and by the Batzberg and the Spitzberg, through the 
Winter glacier to the Rhone-stock. In this oval, seven 
miles wide and fourteen long, are crowded peak and source 
and pass. The Rhone wells out below the Galen-stock ; 
the Rhine flows downwards from the Toma lake ; the Reuss 
goes rattling past the Siedeln Alp ; the Toccia starts be- 
neath the Saas-horn ; the Ticino drops from Lago Sella. 
All the greater lakes are fed from this one crown of earth ; 
Lake Constanz from the Six Madun ; Lake Leman from 
the Galen-stock ; Lago Maggiore from the Sasso di Gottardo. 
Three drops of rain delivered from one drifting cloud, might 
fall into the Rhone, the Toccia and the Rhine, and, after 
filtering through Lake Leman, Lago Maggiore and Lake 
Constanz, might run forward on their several ways into the 
sea, past Avignon, Cremona and Cologne. 

Her cardinal peak is Galen-stock — the peak now towering 
on our right — a fount of light and beauty in this sombre 
realm, which ancient shepherds, coming up the valleys of 
the Rhone and Reuss in search of fortune, called the Pillar 
of the Sun. He is the Saul of the St. Gothard group — 
above the tallest of his brethren : Gerstenhorn, Lucendro, 
Mutt-horn, Spitzberg, Six Madun — though all these 
mountains are of Anak breed. Three glaciers hang about 
his hoary neck and shiver down his sturdy sides ; the 
Tiefen glacier on his northern flank, the Siedeln glacier on 
his southern flank, and the Rhone glacier (which has many 
feeders) on his western flank. These glaciers drip by dif- 
ferent ravines and descend to different seas. Above his 
summit floats a canopy of cloud, from under which at times 



268 SWITZERLAND 

leap fire and wind and hail, those rival demons of this 
upper air, which shake and daze the earth in their plutonic 
and magnetic strife. About his feet, low down among the 
ruts and wrecks of ice, lie caves of wondrous beauty and 
uncounted wealth. In 1869 a cave was entered by this 
Tiefen glacier, when the noblest crystals in the world were 
found. The rock was topaz. Fragments lay about in heaps, 
each broken piece a hundred pounds, or two hundred pounds 
in weight. Some fifteen tons of topaz were removed from 
this great hiding-place of nature in a single year. What sage 
can count the marvels yet in lurking near this Pillar of the 
Sun ? 

There — spent at last — the fiery orb is gone ! Dark 
domes of cloud are rising round his couch. A faint green 
tinge still charms the upper sky, and specks of silver touch 
the highest peaks ; but all the ravines at our feet are veiled, 
and all the secondary alps are lost to sight. At such a time 
one feels how poets in the guise of shepherds, with an eye 
on straying goat and heifer, learned to call this central point 
of their converging tracks the Pillar of the Sun. This peak 
is still a coronet of fire. 

Far down, in either of the valleys in our front and rear, 
as far as Biel in front, as far as Andermatt in rear, the 
herdsmen raise their eyes at sunset and at sunrise towards 
this signal in the clouds, the first to catch and last to 
hold, that radiance which is life and light to man. At Biel 
you see the villagers come out, long after sunset in their 
narrow trench, to watch the glowing tints die off this point, 
and augur from the depth of gold the fortunes of another 
day. At Andermatt the rustics turn to it at dawn, while 
yet the roadway up the Ober Alp, the ruined tower of 
Hospenthal, the fringe of forest on St. Ann's, are buried in 



ST. GOTHARD 269 

profoundest gloom. Above Re Alp and Biilenstock there 
is a flash, a star, a comet, which expands and colours to a 
pinnacle of flame. It is the Pillar of the Sun, the central 
peak of the St. Gothard group. 



THE ENGADINE-SUMMER AND WINTER 

J, KIDD 

THE " Engadine " sounds a very remote country to 
most people in England, yet it is only thirty-six 
hours' journey from London, or rather less than 
the journey to Zermatt, and only four hours more than to 
Chamouni or Interlaken. It has a climate and scenery 
very distinct from ordinary Switzerland. It lies to the east 
and south, and thus possesses a climate drier and clearer 
than the Oberland, Chamouni, or Lucerne. Being within 
a ^Qw miles of Italy, it enjoys the dry warm air of Italy, 
cooled by the perpetual snow of the glaciers. Thus it is in 
summer cool, clear, dry, and invigorating. 

Coming into the Engadine by the Julier Pass the view 
of the lakes is most striking. The diligence comes down 
rapidly by a zigzag of four or five miles to Silvaplana, a 
bright sunny spot, with a glorious view of the glaciers and 
lakes. There is a good hotel here ; the experienced visitor 
coming to St. Moritz or Pontresina in July or August is 
glad to secure a bed for the first night at Silvaplana, and 
goes over in the early morning to search out quarters at 
Pontresina or St. Moritz. 

The Engadine is like a kingdom in itself, with many 
and varied centres. The most attractive in summer is 
Pontresina, which is close to all the most interesting excur- 
sions to the higher mountains. It is well situated, with a 
dry soil and sunny aspect, nearly six thousand feet above 





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THE ENGADINE 271 

the sea-level. It is an upland valley, surrounded by high 
mountains eight to twelve thousand feet high. For a sum- 
mer holiday it contains many attractions. To the adven- 
turous mountaineer, a great variety of excursions upon the 
glaciers and high mountains. To the invalid, many pleas- 
ant walks, and not a i^ew lovely drives; some of the most 
beautiful excursions can be made in the chaise-a-porteurs. 

The inhabitants of the Engadine are a peculiar race, half 
Italian and half German, with a language of their own — 
" Romansch," a mixture of Italian and .German. The 
people rather despise agriculture, and let out their pastur- 
ages in summer to shepherds from Bergamo in Italy, who 
drive up their long-haired sheep and cattle in May, and re- 
turn to Italy at the end of September. The natives are 
said to go all over Europe to " seek their fortunes," and 
get employment chiefly as cooks and confectioners, re- 
turning after many years to settle down in their beloved 
Engadine. 

The climate of the Engadine in summer is most exhilar- 
ating — clear, dry, and bracing. To the fagged brain and 
exhausted nerves of many it acts like a charm, renovates 
and freshens up mind and body. To such it becomes the 
annual rest and restorative. To a few, and only a few^ the 
climate has the opposite effect: depresses the mind and 
body, hinders sleep, and begets apathy and breathlessness. 

The glaciers of the Engadine are not so magnificent as 
those near Zermatt, but they have a most attractive beauty 
of their own, as the habitues of Pontresina seem never to 
weary of visiting them again and again during their stay. 
The district is rich in flowers, especially in the early season, 
June and July. 

At Pontresina the hotels are very good — the food much 



272 SWITZERLAND 

improved on the old style of twenty years ago, when the 
English tourists accustomed to Lucerne and Chamouni 
were horrified to find that there was no food to be had ex- 
cept at the regular table (Thote dinner at one, and supper at 
seven. No possibility then of getting chops or steaks at 
the late hours on returning from the distant excursions. 
Now all this is changed, and in the restaurant rooms of the 
chief hotels there is a plentiful supply of good food at all 
hours. 

The visitors to Pontresina are quite different to the tour- 
ists in the other parts of Switzerland — most friendly and 
genial, grouping themselves naturally. At the Krone, all 
intent on the high Alps, full of plans and arrangements with 
guides over-night, and out before daybreak on the " grand ex- 
cursions " ; dancing in the evening to ease their tired legs. 
At the Roseg, a more quiet set, satisfied with the mild 
excursions, making collections of flowers and plants. The 
Roseg being outside of it is quite removed from all the bad 
smells of the crowded village, in the very centre of which 
the Krone is situated. At Saratz, a select party, " the nota- 
bilities," enjoying a fair and easy life — a faint reflex of the 
London season — the greatest event of the day an Italian 
vetturino driving in with four horses and a " milord's " 
family. 

Visitors to Pontresina go out for a " settling down " of 
three or four weeks, not rushing from place to place. In 
this respect the advantages for a health holiday are infinite. 
Most of the visitors after their three or four weeks' resting 
in the Engadine find the easiest way home is through the 
Italian lakes — a lovely ending to the holiday trip. 

St. Moritz is crowded during the short season, from the 
middle of June to the end of August. During those ten 



THE ENGADINE 273 

weeks it is often extremely difficult to get accommodation, 
even when engaged beforehand. A crowd of visitors fre- 
quent the Paracelse spring every morning, drinking the 
chalybeate water cold or warmed, according to taste. Flat 
vessels of hot water are provided, into which the visitor can 
plunge his glass to take the chill off. The baths are much 
frequented, although it is a bad country for baths, too cold 
and chilly. The description by the natives of the climate 
is too exact : " Nine months of winter, and three months 
of cold weather." Yet it seems to suit the vast crowd of 
English, German and Italian visitors who rush there to es- 
cape the heat of the summer. 

Even during the best season, in August and early Sep- 
tember, the Engadine is liable to heavy falls of snow. Two 
or three seasons out of twelve I experienced this heavy 
snow-storm in the second week of September. It is a most 
lovely sight ; as the storm passes off after two or three days, 
the bright clear sunshine comes out, the snow melts rapidly, 
and the landscape becomes most beautiful as the dark green 
foliage bursts out through the covering of snow. The 
snow storm quickly empties the hotels, a regular flight oc- 
curring to the Italian lakes. The experienced visitors look 
on and wait for a few days, to be richly rewarded by the 
burst of bright, clear, sunny weather, fresh and invigorat- 
ing, when the climate of the Italian lakes is close, hot, and 
damp. 

The Maloia hotel is a great building on the swampy 
shores of the lake of that name, with a lovely background 
of mountains and many pleasant excursions near. The 
situation of the hotel is exposed to mists and gusts of wind, 
but the accommodation is so good that it is crowded for the 
ten weeks of the season, with three or four hundred visitors. 



274 SWITZERLAND 

In winter the vast building is abandoned to thirty or forty, 
who cling to It, through mist and wind, because of the good 
food, and airy, well-warmed rooms. 

Campfer attracts many English visitors who love a quiet 
resting-place a little aside from the great crowd of St, 
Moritz or Pontresina. It is situated in the centre of the 
lake district, with many easy excursions, and endless oppor- 
tunities for botanizing, fishing and sauntering in the beauti- 
ful woods around it. The Hotel Julier is like a little 
English family party — most of them old habitues of the 
Engadine. 

For the artist and lover of the picturesque, the most per- 
fect haven Is Sils Maria. There may be found quiet beauty 
amongst the lower hills and the lakes, with enchanting 
views of the snow peaks in the distance. 

Tarasp, In the Lower Engadine, attracts a crowd of Swiss 
and Germans for the use of the mineral waters, which re- 
semble Vichy and Carlsbad in their chemical constituents. 
A few English people go there, especially those with whom 
the air of the High Engadine disagrees. Tarasp is In a 
deep hole at the bottom of a deep valley, a most uninviting 
spot. The English visitors generally leave it and go to 
Schulz, a village about a mile down the valley, in a good 
situation, and possessing a good hotel ; from thence walking 
to the mineral waters and baths once or twice a day. 

Winter In the Engadine is a most chequered season, a 
source of much anxiety to many Invalids. Most of the 
hotel proprietors and doctors advise Intending visitors to 
come there in November, so as to get settled before the 
actual winter commences. This advice Is extremely bad 
and misleading, as it exposes delicate invalids in the early 
winter to frequent changes of snow and rain, alternating 



THE ENGADINE 275 

with moist Sirocco winds — the dreaded " Fohn " wind — 
which enervates and depresses, causing frequent catarrhs 
and feverish colds. The roads in the early winter are apt 
to be slushy, obliging invalids to keep much indoors. The 
public rooms, ili-ventilated and heated by stoves, become hot 
and close. Without occupation, and unable to take out- 
door exercise, the invalids become discouraged and de- 
pressed before the real winter comes, in the middle or end 
of December. Then the experienced visitors arrive, when 
there is a good prospect of dry, clear, wintry weather ; two 
months of the most lovely, clear, blue skies, warm sunshine, 
still air so transparent and bright that no description can 
give an idea of it. But even in this late winter there is an 
occasional week or two of fresh snow, blocking up the 
roads and stopping the skating. The hardy visitors will get 
out of doors even in this bad weather, but most of the deli- 
cate invalids are kept indoors, and lose ground as rapidly as 
they gained it in the clear cold of settled winter. 

Davos, although outside the Engadine, deserves especial 
mention as the first of the winter resorts of the high Alps. 
It is nearly i,ooo feet lower than St. Moritz, yet well 
above the line of the clouds which cover the lower Swiss 
Alps with a cold dull grey, when Davos is basking in the 
bright sunshine with a clear blue sky, and dry snow upon 
the ground. Davos is essentially the place for delicate in- 
valids. It is more sheltered than St. Moritz. It has, 
however, very few walks or drives, and no lakes like St. 
Moritz. It has a skating-rink in a meadow, which is 
flooded in winter and soon freezes ; but this is a very tame 
affair compared to the exquisite beauty of the snow moun- 
tains surrounding the frozen lakes in the Engadine. It is a 
part of the hygiene at St. Moritz for all the young men to 



276 SWITZERLAND 

go out for two or three hours' hard work sweeping the snow 
off the ice so as to keep it fit for skating. During the con- 
tinuance of the clear frosty weather, the life of the visitors 
is the most healthful that can be conceived. From ten to 
four, there is constant occupation out of doors, skating, 
walking, sledging, tobogganing. Even the most delicate 
can sit out of doors for hours basking in the brilliant sun- 
shine ; the appetite increases with renewed health and 
strength. The dry rarefied air acts most beneficially on the 
lung tissue. Many and severe cases of lung disease become 
perfectly cured as long as they remain in the Engadine. 
Many of the residents of Davos came there for the cure of 
lung disease, and subsequently settled as shopkeepers, or 
waiters, or hotel-keepers, or doctors. If possible, even the 
residents leave Davos in April and May, but many are un- 
able to afford the change, and stay on from year to year. 
Davos has more sunshine in winter than St. Moritz, and is 
less exposed to wind and mist. It gets quite as much, or even 
more, of the " Fohn." As it reaches Davos the snow 
melts, a close steamy air fills the narrow valley and brings 
cold and depression of spirits, the roads become slushy and 
unfit for open-air exercise, all people indoors so become a 
study for" the blues." A few fall back upon regular study 
or drawing, but most of the invalids find it impossible to 
settle down to healthy occupation indoors. Davos owes 
much to the skill and care of the doctors. All modern 
improvements in health management are ably carried out. 
Even during deep frost, the doctor will frequently go about 
the bedrooms at night to see that windows are open. In 
that still air, with thirty degrees of frost out of doors, the 
open windows at night are safe and most beneficial. At 
Davos, the word for every one is " out of doors all day." 



THE ENGADINE 277 

For those so weak as not to be able to walk, there is the 
open balcony with a south aspect, to sit in the sunshine and 
rest without fatigue. All the doctors urge the invalids to 
drink milk abundantly, early in the morning and late at 
night, and at odd times during the day. Red Valteline 
wine is also freely taken at lunch and dinner. The food at 
Davos is very much better than at St. Moritz. Much more 
care is taken to keep up a good supply of the best fresh 
meat, and all other things in proportion. The hotels are 
most excellent. 

A patient who spent four winter months at St. Moritz 
and a fortnight at the Maloia, thus describes his experience : 
November and December changeable, some fine days, not 
a few bad ones, and many half-and-half sort of days when the 
sun is partly clouded and a slight breeze blows ; one might 
be hot one moment, and cold another. January and Feb- 
ruary all that could be desired. Sharp frost at night, and 
bright sunshine all day, with a dry crisp air so clear and blue 
as to be impossible to describe. March most trying, as the 
thaw set in during the days with snow, so that the clothes 
got wet on going out. Occasionally a strong wind blowing, 
so that few could venture out, as the wind seemed to cut 
through the warmest clothing. During March most people 
had colds. 

The same patient left St. Moritz, and went in March to 
the Maloia. There he found food most excellent, and the 
ventilation and sanitary arrangements most perfect. 

The journey to the Engadlne in summer is very easy and 
most enjoyable. Leaving London at ii A. M., the corre- 
sponding train from Calais reaches Basle at six in the morn- 
ing, and Coire soon after midday. From thence it is a long 
day*s journey of marvellous beauty and interest to Pontre- 



278 SWITZERLAND 

sina or St. Moritz. In winter, the diligence runs regularly. 
When the snow is deep, the passengers are put into little 
open sledges — a most agreeable mode of travelling. For 
invalids, a covered sledge is used, but it is not safe in bad 
weather, being easily upset. Fur coats are the grand pro- 
tective on the journey. 



LAKE LUGANO AND LAKE COMO 

F. B. ZINCKE 

THE road to Lugano begins on a rich and well cul- 
tivated level. The broad, highly varnished leaf of 
the maize, and the more sober green of the vine, 
are side by side everywhere. Some country houses are 
passed. After five miles of this cultivation, grass becoming 
more common, and country houses less so, at Cadenazzo, 
you leave the valley, and begin the ascent of the Monte 
Cenere, by which you cross the range that separates the 
valley of the Ticino from the basin of Lugano. We had 
been for some time slowly toiling up the zigzags ; and I 
was at the moment noting the heath in flower, and the 
stunted russet brake (for there had been a long spell of dry 
weather) with rock everywhere protrudmg; and all beneath 
the old gnarled chestnuts; when, on coming to a masonry- 
supported angle of the road, projected on the mountain- 
side, almost as if for a lookout, there burst on my sight, 
beyond and below, at perhaps a distance of two miles, the 
head of Lago Maggiore, and the town, on its margin, of 
Locarno. I was not expecting anything of the kind; and 
was indeed, at the moment, intent on the heath and brake, 
when they abruptly vanished, and this glorious prospect took 
their place. 

At my feet, for the foreground, was the broad, richly 
cultivated valley, partitioned into innumerable bright green 
prairies, and grain fields yellow for harvest ; all full of fruit 



28o SWITZERLAND 

trees. Beyond were mountains of very varied outline and 
colour, scarred with rocky ravines of varying size, which 
the melting snow, and the storm torrents of ages, had cut 
from their naked summits down along their forest-clad 
sides. Snow still, here and there, spotted their summits, 
in consequence of the cold late spring of this year. Along 
the margin of the glass-smooth, green-blue lake were the 
white houses of the long straggling town. Above the 
town, scattered in woods, at wider intervals up the moun- 
tain, and for some distance from the town along the margin 
of the lake, were innumerable white villas. It being early 
morning the bright sun was full on the town, and moun- 
tains, bringing out clearly every white wall, every dark 
roof, every green field, every patch of wood, almost every 
individual tree, and every dark grey rock. It was a scene 
of surprising variety, interest, and beauty, that had come 
suddenly before me without any preparation. 

As you pass on to Lugano, though you are still on high 
ground, there is something that tells you that you are on 
the south side of the mountains. It may be hard to say 
precisely what this something is, but it is in the vegetation, 
in the people, in the air. There is more of the chestnut, 
and less of the fir tribe. The oak is more spreading. The 
undergrowth in the copses, and the plants by the roadside, 
are more varied. The people are gayer, and more light- 
hearted. The air is more stimulative of life. At Lugano, 
as might be expected from its contiguity to the lake, the 
aspect of things is very different from what it is at Bel- 
linzona. Many appear to be in easy circumstances, and at 
ease in their minds. This they show by the care they be- 
stow on the exterior of their houses, and on the ground 
around them. 




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LAKE LUGANO AND LAKE COMO 281 

As to the lake. As far as I saw of it, its distinguishing 
feature appears to be the abruptness with which the envi- 
roning mountains descend into the water. In many places 
they dip into it without any preparation at all, with no final 
talus. The deep water breaks on the clean upright rock. 
Still the mountains are pretty well clothed with wood. 
The trees, however, are much detached, and very scrubby, 
as if on these dry, sunburnt, rocky mountain-sides, they 
needed a century, as probably they do, to grow into scrub. 
Still wherever on the margin of the lake, and a little higher 
up, soil could be collected for a few vines, or for a little 
garden, there you will see the few vines or the little garden. 
One is astonished at the number of small towns on the 
margin. They are very conspicuous from the walls of all 
the houses being white. I suppose they are built of rough 
stone, which is then plastered, and lime-washed. An 
American on board the steamer, and who was acquainted only 
with the large way in which things are done in his own 
country, and with the large rewards of industry there, told 
me he had been fairly beaten by the puzzle, how the people 
in these towns could live. There was no land to cultivate. 
There were no factories to work in. No business. Noth- 
ing to trade with. Nothing to get a living out of. 

Somewhere between Lugano and the eastern extremity 
of the lake, we were boarded by a custom house officer, and 
entered the kingdom of Italy. At the eastern extremity — 
the place is called Porlezza— we took the diligence for 
Menaggio, on the Lake of Como. The road lies along a 
depression in the ridge that separates the two lakes. From 
its being much lower than the ground which separates the 
head of Lago Maggiore from Lugano, it presents a much 
more advanced stage of the idea of Italy, and of the sense 



282 SWITZERLAND 

of being in Italy. There is cultivation all the way. Maize, 
mulberries, vines everywhere. La petite culture only. In 
a little more than an hour we were down the zigzags to 
Menaggio. The long expanse of Como was at our feet, 
backed by lofty mountains, on which snow still lingered. 
Everywhere on the terraced slopes, in which not a square 
foot of ground was anywhere lost, were not only maize, 
and mulberries, and vines, but also fig, almonds, and olives ; 
and oleanders, myrtles, and magnolias. Another world 
with a richer life was around us ; a brighter sun and a 
bluer vault were above us — a glorious bit of quick-pulsed 
Italy ! It is good for a man that his mind can be moved in 
response to such a scene. 

At Menaggio I took a boat to cross the lake to Bel- 
laggio — the fac-simile of the boat in which I had gone from 
Sacheln to Sarnen. It was propelled also in the same 
fashion by two men, who stood up to their work. Of 
course, they demanded at first twice as much for their serv- 
ices as they were glad to accept eventually. As we got 
afloat the sun was shining brightly, as it had been since we 
left Bellinzona in the early morning ; and there was just 
enough air to be pleasantly perceptible. At the head of 
the lake, however, far away to the north, we saw that a 
storm was raging. There all was black, and distant thun- 
der was at times heard. When we had got about half-way 
across the lake, the surface being still unruffled where we 
were, we descried a line of broken water reaching across 
the lake, rapidly advancing upon us from the north. Our 
boatmen made all the haste they could, and succeeded not 
quite, but almost, in escaping the squall ; for it struck us 
when we were but little more than 200 yards from the 
beach. 



LAKE LUGANO AND LAKE COMO 283 

We had to wait at Bellaggio about an hour for, as it was 
to go to Como, I suppose I must say, the up steamer. If 
I had remained at Menaggio I should have gone on by the 
same boat, but I was glad that I had not done so, not 
merely because crossing in the boat was an additional small 
incident in the day's work, but also because it enabled me 
to see the finest, I may say perhaps the grandest, display of 
flowers I have ever looked upon. In going down to the 
new pier, to the left of the road, or rather of the street, for 
it was still in the town, there is a long wall about ten or 
twelve feet high ; evidently the boundary of the grounds of 
a house situated somewhere behind it. I infer from the 
lay of the land that the grounds, immediately behind the 
wall, must be six or seven feet higher than the roadway. 
Over the top of this wall, rising several feet above it, and 
bending down four or five feet from the top, was one thick, 
bushy, unbroken line of oleanders, every spray of which 
ended in a large truss of freshly expanded rose-red blos- 
soms. I paced the wall, and, if I remember rightly, its 
length was sixty-two yards. The stems of the plants were 
invisible, being behind the wall. Crowning then this lofty 
grey stone wall, and hanging down over its side was a long, 
broad, even, unbroken line of bright blazing colour. The 
eye fed upon it, and was more than satisfied with the feast. 

The streets of Bellaggio were sheltered from the squall. 
In crossing the lake to Cadenabbia it was on our starboard 
beam. The little wet it made on deck was sufficient to 
drive pretty nearly all the natives below. A little further 
down, on rounding the point, which opens the long reach, 
at the bottom of which stands Como, there was more wind ; 
either the interposing mountain acted as a screen to keep it 
off, or, as is common in mountain lakes and valleys, it was 



284 SWITZERLAND 

a local affair along a single reach. As we neared Como, at 
about 6 P. M., we saw that a heavy storm was gathering at 
the end of the lake, and just as we were leaving the boat 
for the pier, the rain came down in earnest, and lasted for 
two hours, accompanied with much thunder and lightning. 



THE TUNNELS OF THE ALPS 

H, S. ARCHER 

THE Simplon road was the first great Alpine route 
after the Brenner, and constructed by order of 
Napoleon in 1 800-1 806. The wild and gloomy 
pass, however, is said to have been used as an international 
thoroughfare as early as a. d. 206, under Septimus Seve- 
rus, and to have been provided with numerous stations 
and relays for a primitive posting service ; but this is very 
doubtful, for only one place, in the Vedro Valley below the 
village of Simplon, was impracticable in quite recent times, 
and a great amount of blasting must have been performed 
in making the high road. There can be no doubt that it 
was extensively used from the P'ifteenth Century, when the 
Swiss were trying to annex the Val D'Ossola. In the 
middle of the Seventeenth Century an enterprising Swiss 
merchant, Kaspar Stockalper, dominated the trade over it, 
ensuring the safety of transit by a guard of seventy men, 
whom he raised and equipped himself. Relics of Kaspar 
Stockalper's enterprise exist to-day in the picturesque 
Chateau Stockalper at Brigue, which is still the largest in- 
habited building in Switzerland, the old Hospice near the 
summit ; and the tall, square tower on the Italian side at 
Gondo — all which he built from the proceeds of the tolls, 
to afford shelter to travellers. 

The construction of the splendid road over the Simplon, 
which, when completed, was the wonder of the day, and 



286 SWITZERLAND 

Still deserves to rank as one of the great engineering 
achievements of the world, was decided upon by Napoleon 
immediately after the battle of Marengo, while the recollec- 
tions of his own difficult passage of the Alps by the Great 
St. Bernard was fresh in his memory. The work was com- 
menced on the Italian side in 1800, and on the Swiss in 
1 80 1. For five summers five thousand men were employed 
on it, and by the autumn of 1805, Napoleon was able to 
receive a satisfactory answer to what had been his constant 
query since the commencement of the colossal undertaking ; 
" Le cannon quand pourra-i-il passer le Slmplon f " The 
breadth of the road is from twenty-five to thirty feet, and 
its length between Brigue and Domo D'Ossola amounts to 
forty-one miles. The slope nowhere exceeds one in thir- 
teen, and the maintenance of its comparatively gentle 
gradients necessitated the construction of terraces of mas- 
sive masonry miles in length. Between Brigue and Sesto 
the bridges number sixty-one, and there are also no less than 
ten galleries of solid masonry or tunnels perforating the 
rock, with a total length of 1,723 feet, the longest being 
the Gallery of Gondo, 722 feet in length. 

The ascent begins Immediately on leaving the town of 
Brigue, and the most dangerous part of the pass lies fifteen 
miles away, half way between which Is the summit of the 
road, 6,590 feet above sea-level. Looking back from the 
Kulm, or summit, where an excellent hotel Is located, a 
magnificent panorama of the Bernese Alps Is obtained — the 
most prominent features being the glittering white peaks of 
the Aletschhorn and Nesthorn, and that wonderful sea of 
ice, the great Aletsch Glacier, the largest glacier In Switz- 
erland. Right above one overhangs the snow-covered 
Massif o{ Monte Leone, its flanks fitted with the treacher- 



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THE TUNNELS OF THE ALPS 287 

ous Kaltwasser Glacier. To protect the road at this point 
from the roaring cataracts and winter avalanches descend- 
ing from this mountain, there are three galleries, known as 
the Glacier, partly excavated, partly built up of masonry. 
Over one of these, the Weser Gallery, skims the principal 
torrent from the Kaltwasser Glacier, confined within a 
broad masonry trough, from the outlet of which the great 
volume of water hurls itself clear of the grotto in a majestic 
fall, with a drop of fifty feet. A window in the gallery per- 
mits the unique spectacle of a waterfall viewed from behind ; 
and when the sun is on the water the effect is that of a 
quivering curtain composed of diamond facets, coruscating 
with all the colours of the rainbow. In winter the avalanches 
slide over the roofs of all three tunnels, which until early 
summer bear traces of the annual conflict between nature 
and human labour in the shape of accumulated masses of 
snow and ice. 

About half a mile beyond the Kulm stands the New 
Hospice, founded by Napoleon for the reception of travel- 
lers, but not completed until 1825, when it became the 
property of the Hospice of the Great St. Bernard. The 
interior is not specially interesting, though there are some 
well executed portraits of the Emperor and deceased Fathers 
Superior. A branch kennel of the famous St. Bernard 
breed has been established, but there is not much work for 
the dogs. A little farther on, in a broad, open valley re- 
sembling a dried-up lake, stands the old Hospice, a high, 
square building, with a tower. It is now occupied by 
herdsmen. 

Exactly half-way is the village of Simplon, from which 
the pass takes its name. This hamlet is beautifully situated 
amid fertile upland pastures, and at the base of the Fletsch- 



288 SWITZERLAND 

horn. After this the descent really commences, the road 
passing through a plethora of wild and majestic scenes. 
Passing mention must be made of the Ravine of Gondo, 
one of the grandest and wildest gorges in the Alps, flanked 
on either side by overhanging precipices of mica slate, 2,000 
feet in height. On the southern exit from the tortuous 
Gallery of Gondo the road crosses a slender bridge, span- 
ning a lofty cleft, down which like "a downward smoke" 
thunders the Diveria until within a few feet of the buttress, 
its spray sweeping over the track itself, and lashing the faces 
of passing travellers. Gondo, twenty-nine miles from 
Brigue, is the Swiss Douane, and a little farther on a granite 
column marks the Italian frontier. The first Italian town is 
Iselle, soon after which the pass widens out, though the road 
continues along a terrace overhanging a boiling, foaming 
Diveria. Here a new world of verdure and cultivation 
greets the eye, in striking contrast to the kingdom of spark- 
ling glacier, fractured rock, and roaring cataract, through 
which one has been passing. Finally the road crosses the 
Diveria for the last time by the noble Pont de Crevola, and 
decends steeply to the balmy plains of Lombardy, a land of 
trellised vines and luxuriant vegetation, bounded by an am- 
phitheatre of wooded hills, studded with white church 
towers and innumerable villages. 

The importance of the Simplon Pass greatly revived when 
the new road was made, but it has diminished since the 
construction of the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels. 
During the summer months, two diligences per day traverse 
the pass in either direction, starting from Brigue and 
Domo D'Ossola at 7 A. m., and midday; in the spring and 
autumn there Is but one service each way ; while in the 
depth of winter the post alone is covered by sleighs. The 



THE TUNNELS OF THE ALPS 289 

journev by these lumbering mail coaches averages ten hours. 
The project of a railway tunnel under the Simplon first 
occupied the attention of engineers nearly fifty years ago. 
It was, indeed, the first route projected for an Alpine tun- 
nel ; but since the machine-drill was not perfected until 
1 861, the scheme, after due consideration, was voted im- 
practicable. In 1857 ^^^ ^^^^ Alpine tunnel, under the Mont 
Cenis, was commenced, and when completed in 1870, at a 
cost of ;£'2,6oo,ooo, the Simplon scheme was revived. 
However, the latter was again shelved, owing to the pref- 
erence given to the St. Gothard route, where the second 
Alpine tunnel was commenced in 1872, and finished in 
1881, at a cost of ;£"2,270,ooo. In 1880 the third Alpine 
tunnel — the Alberg, to connect the province of Vorarlberg 
with the rest of the Austrian Tyrol, and to make a more 
direct outlet for Austro-Hungarian products to Switzerland 
and France — was commenced and opened in 1884, the cost 
being less than ;^i,400,ooo. 

The length of these tunnels is as follows : Mont Cenis, 
seven and one-fourth miles ; St. Gothard, nine and one- 
fourth miles ; Arlberg, six and one-third miles. Each ac- 
commodates a double track. 

Upon the successful termination of the Arlberg, the pro- 
jectors of a Simplon tunnel petitioned the Swiss and Italian 
Governments. Ten years elapsed, however, before the 
scheme crystallized, and thirteen before the Convention be- 
tween Italy and Switzerland was signed at Berne on No- 
vember 25th, 1896, and the necessary subventions were 
guaranteed on both sides. Italy undertook to make the 
approach lines from Domo D'Ossola to Iselle, eleven and 
one-half miles in length, but did not stipulate to grant any 
subvention, except an annuity of 3,000 francs per kilometre 



v.- 



290 SWITZERLAND 

for ninety-nine years, for the portion of the line in Italian 
territory. Switzerland, on the other hand, was to provide 
a subvention of 15,000,000 francs, of which 4,500,000 
francs was to be found by the Confederation. 

The route selected keeps to the northeast of the Pass 
road, and is practically in a straight line running due north 
and south between Brigue and Iselle. This means a tun- 
nel 21,550 yards, or twelve and one-half miles in length, 
which is three miles longer than the St. Gothard and, there- 
fore, the longest in the world. The authors of the project 
favoured the perforation at a low altitude in preference to 
a shorter tunnel at a higher altitude. A tunnel at a high 
altitude involves steep approaches, and the cost of the 
haulage of trains up steep gradients nullifies the initial sav- 
ing effected by making the perforation as short as possible. 
The Mont Cenis, the St. Gothard, and the Arlberg tunnels 
attain great heights, and their approaches are notorious for 
their severe gradients. 

The plan of the Simplon Tunnel, however, provided that 
the track should not be taken to a greater altitude than 
2,310 feet above sea level; the Swiss entrance at Brigue 
being 2,250 feet, and the Italian one at Iselle 2,076 feet 
above sea level. 

' Commencing at the Brigue entrance, the tunnel ascends 
for a distance of 10,004 yards to the summit of 2,310 feet, 
the ruling gradient being in consequence the extremely 
gentle one of one in 500. The track is then level for a 
distance of 546 yards, after which it descends for 11,030 
yards to the Italian exit ; therefore, on the latter section the 
ruling gradient is one in 141. Now, the altitude of the 
Swiss entrance is exactly the same as that of the rail-level 
at Brigue station, the present terminus of the Jura-Sim- 



THE TUNNELS OF THE ALPS 291 

plon system, distant ninety and three-fourth miles from 
Lausanne j hence, on this side of the Alps the extension of 
the line for a distance of two miles, unimpeded by hill or 
river, is an easy matter. On the Italian side, however, the 
difference in altitude between the entrance at Iselle and the 
present terminus of the Mediterranean Railway at Domo 
D'Ossola, eleven and one-half miles distant, amounts to 
1,266 feet; and for two-thirds of the distance the new line 
has to follow the steep and narrow bed of the Diveria, and 
finally, when the valley becomes too steep for the grade, 
plunge into a short series of helical tunnels in order to ful- 
fil the engineer's ideal that no gradient on the approaches 
must exceed one in 140. Therefore, on the Italian frontier 
the works outside are of a far more difficult and expensive 
character than they are on the Swiss. 

In boring the tunnel itself a serious difficulty had to be 
taken into consideration : namely, the very high tempera- 
ture — reckoned at 104° Fahrenheit — that might be expected 
in that part of the route which lies deepest under the moun- 
tain. How could such excessive temperature be reduced ? 
and, again, how, when completed, could such a long tunnel 
be efficiently ventilated ? To solve the two problems the 
authors of the project determined to adopt a new system of 
piercing. Instead of a double-track tunnel it was decided 
to construct twin single-track tunnels, the axis of each be- 
ing fifty-six feet apart, connected one with another by 
transverse galleries at intervals of 220 yards. Each tunnel 
would therefore act as a ventilating shaft for the other. 
The twin perforations were to advance side by side ; but to 
commence with, only one, that on the eastern side, was to 
be hewn out to its full dimensions for the accommodation 
of a single track ; while until the traffic demanded a second 



292 SWITZERLAND 

track, tunnel two was to be merely a ventilating gallery, 
but, at the same time, large enough to take a narrow-gauge 
track for transporting material. 

In conclusion, a few lines must be devoted to explaining 
the advantages likely to accrue from the construction of the 
fourth Alpine tunnel. First, as an international through 
route it will effect a considerable reduction of distance be- 
tween Calais and Milan. The idea is to supplement the 
tunnel with the construction of a new line of railway from 
the Lake of Thun through the heart of the Bernese Ober- 
land, which would furnish the last link in the straight 
chain — Calais, Tergnier, Chalons, Chaumont, Belfort, 
Basle, Berne, Brigue, Domo D'Ossola, Novara, Milan, 
Piacenza, Parma, Bologna, Ancona, Brindisi, — between the 
straits of Dover and the Adriatic. 

Secondly, since the conditions of level are much more 
favourable than in the Mont Cenis and the St. Gothard, 
there is every reason to expect that it will divert much of 
the international goods traffic from its rivals, and thus 
greatly benefit the Jura-Simplon system, the Company 
which have staked most on its construction, at the expense 
of the Paris-Lyons-Mediterranee and St. Gothard associa- 
tions. The Paris-Lyons-Mediterranee system and the port 
of Marseilles will sufFer most. Hitherto Marseilles has 
held almost a monopoly as regards cereals imported into 
Switzerland ; by the construction of the Simplon tunnel 
Genoa will become a serious rival in this and other re- 
spects, and Genoa will be brought seventy-five miles nearer 
Lausanne than is Marseilles. 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 

J, SOWERBT 

THE spirit of modern progress has produced many 
changes in Switzerland in external things. Along 
with the change from aristocratic to democratic 
forms of government, with the equalization of rights in 
town and country, with increased trade and improved com- 
munications, with the influx of strangers, many of the old 
ways have disappeared. In nothing has the change been 
more remarkable than in the matter of dress. Whereas 
formerly almost every class in town and country wore a 
distinctive dress, now fashion is everywhere triumphant, 
and has almost entirely effaced the old distinguishing marks. 
Now and then in the old towns a woman may be seen in 
an astonishing cap, a bridal couple, or a servant fresh 
from the country may be conspicuous for peculiar dress. 
Cantonal or local costumes are more frequently to be seen 
in the Hill Cantons, where the spirit of conservatism is 
strong, and a love of old customs is still retained. In the 
Forest Cantons the women wore their hair either woven 
round a silver pin, often in the shape of a double spoon, or 
rolled in a knot in the same way as Tacitus describes the 
headdress of the Allemanni. No hat, the neck without 
a collar, either bare or covered with a handkerchief. The 
body and skirt of the dress were separate, the latter reach- 
ing to the ankle. The shape of the silver pin varied in 



294 SWITZERLAND 

married women and girls, as also the mode of dressing the 
hair and covering it, but these distinctions have almost gone 
out of use. The men universally vi^ore short hair, which 
now is seen only occasionally in old men and the clergy ; 
the waistcoat, generally scarlet, with silver or silvergilt 
buttons. 

In old times the men of Schwyz wore long trousers, 
coats (or waistcoats) with sleeves, open down the front, 
and very short, reaching only to the hips. They wore 
whiskers, but not beards, and the hair was cut short. A 
cap or hat of thick cloth, with a plate on which stood a 
tuft of feathers, covered the head. The women wore a 
short coat, the lower part of which was set with ribbons, 
a narrow apron with broad stripes. The coat was close- 
fitting and fastened in front with buttons ; the sleeves were 
close-fitting down to the wrist, but cut and puffed at the 
elbows and shoulders. Unmarried women wore their hair 
with only a wreath or a ribbon. Married women wore a 
linen cap ornamented with lace, which stood up in front. 
They wore red woollen stockings, and shoes with high 
heels. Men of wealth wore ruffs and girdles ornamented 
with silver, the women chains of silver (sometimes of gold) 
and necklaces. After a time the mode of dress changed in 
the same way as in the neighbouring Cantons. Short hose 
came into fashion probably towards the end of last century, 
and the long trousers were regarded as a distinguishing 
mark of traitors, almost as much so as the tricolour cockade. 
At this time no doubt the Lands were strongly prejudiced 
against the new-fangled Constitutions introduced by the 
French, and were irritated by the loss of their subject lands. 

In 1798, the Landsgemeinde of Schwyz issued a decree 
forbidding the use of French fashions, and the use of the 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 295 

toupee and high heeled shoes by the women. The short 
hose were made of leather, generally calf skin, but some- 
times of chamois or buckskin. The men's dress was com- 
pleted by a scarlet waistcoat and a blue jacket (formerly 
brown). This last reached to the knees, and was open in 
front so as to show the scarlet waistcoat. This fashion 
has again changed. The short hose and the scarlet waist- 
coat have disappeared, and long trousers of twill or wool, 
and short jackets, are worn in their stead. The women's 
dress has also changed, even in the remotest valleys. The 
magazines of fashion have reached the most outlying houses. 
The distinguishing headdress of women and girls has alone 
remained. This for the girls is a small black cap, for 
married women a black cap. These were formerly dif- 
ferent in shape, but now only vary slightly from each other. 
There are in each two strips of lace standing upright, 
which come from behind over the head, and meet on the 
forehead, giving the whole the appearance of a butterfly 
with wings half spread. Between these the girls' hair is 
puffed up and held together by a silver (or silvergilt) pin, 
often called ^^ rosennadeV from its head resembling a half- 
opened rose. In married women the hair is similarly puffed 
up, but is covered with a piece of richly embroidered silk, 
sometimes (though rarely) adorned with artificial flowers. 
Sometimes a cap of extraordinary shape [schawhenhauhe) is 
worn, resembling the outspread tail of a turkey cock, so 
large that the woman wearing it can neither look out of 
the window, nor rest her head sideways. When such were 
worn in church, neither choir nor priest could be seen by 
those behind. In the outer districts of Schwyz, the March 
and the Hdfe (on the Lake of Zurich) there has been but 
little peculiarity in dress. A remarkable cap, called " hof- 



296 SWITZERLAND 

nerhauhe^^ was worn by old women and poor people, but 
has now quite died out. 

The members of the council of the Canton formerly 
wore scarlet mantles, and in the Eighteenth Century wigs. 
Latterly scarlet is worn by beadles, messengers, and sacris- 
tans. The cantonal messengers, on great occasions, such 
as the meeting of the Landsgemeinde, wore coat, waistcoat, 
and breeches of scarlet. The coat was open in front, and 
was made to fall in thick folds. It had four sleeves, two 
of which hung unused, supposed to be an imitation of the 
dress of the Roman lictors. The official dress in court or 
council chamber is not much different from that of ordi- 
nary citizens — a black suit, with the addition of a black 
mantle. The beadle, however, of the council is always 
dressed in the cantonal colours. The inhabitants of Goldau 
(overwhelmed in 1806) were reputed to be the most simple 
in dress of all the Canton Schwyz. Rich and poor alike 
wore dresses of the same cut and of the same material. 
Two daughters of one of the most wealthy inhabitants are 
said to have had only one best dress, which was worn by 
them alternately. When one went to mass at Arth on a 
festival, the other waited at home for her sister's return, to 
put on the dress and go to Arth in her turn. 

In Canton Unterwalden the men of Obwald formerly 
wore short hose, a waistcoat of black twill, and a jacket 
reaching to the knees, with a broad leather girdle. The 
hair was parted in front, turned back behind the ears, and 
cut off in a round at the back, similar to the men of Nid- 
wald, and also of Entlebuch. Now the dress is more con- 
formable to the ordinary style. The dress of the women 
has in it but little peculiarity. It is sober, and the colours 
are seldom gay. The hair is woven in plaits, and fastened 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 297 

by the girls with a spoon-shaped pin, and by the married 
women covered with something between the old cap and 
the modern hat, with a kind of comb of lace at the top. 

In Nidwald the men formerly wore close-fitting breeches 
of blue stuff, hardly reaching above the hips (like the men 
of Appenzell), over which the stockings were drawn, and 
fastened to the breeches by ribbons, whilst the breeches 
were secured to the waistbelt by sky-blue strings ; a red 
body or waistcoat, under which was a leathern girdle with 
date ; the arms were in wide sleeves. A yellow hat, with 
peacock's feathers and bows of ribbon, covered the head. 

The women formerly wore red coats and stockings. 
The front of the bodice was made stiff, like a board, 
adorned with flowers and silver ornaments, and compressed 
the breast in an unseemly way. They had silver chains 
round the neck, and on the head a cap with large open- 
work, a three cornered hat, and a long pipe in the mouth. 

The women in the towns were distinguished from the 
peasant women by wearing corsets, and having their hair 
interwoven with white strings instead of red. 

French fashions now prevail in Nidwald, especially in 
Stans, but not in Obwald. In both most peculiarities have 
disappeared, except the way of dressing the hair. 

The herdsmen of Obwald and Nidwald, as also in Uri, 
when on the Alps, wear a long garment resembling a smock- 
frock, reaching to the calf, called in Uri ^^futtenhemd^^* 
and in Unterwalden " hirtenhemd.'" In Obwald also the 
herdsmen not unfrequently use a jacket made of the skin 
of a goat, with the hair outside, which affords an excellent 
protection against cold or storm. 

"" In Canton Uri, the old modes of dress were very similar 
to those of the other Lands. Now all that is peculiar has 



298 SWITZERLAND 

disappeared, except the different ways in which married 
women and girls wear their hair. The women of Isenthal 
and Seelisberg follow the fashions of the adjoining Nidwald. 
Those of Urseren and the Upper Reussthal follow more the 
fashion of Italy, wrapping the head in a handkerchief like 
a veil. In the Lower Reussthal and in the Schachenthal the 
men wear short jackets and trousers, or short hose of grey 
cloth of their own making. 

The peasant women of Uri, when haymaking, wear an 
original but practical costume — thick woollen short hose, 
half stockings (without feet), a long jacket, and a red cloth 
round the head, which makes them look like Esquimaux. 

Throughout the Forest Cantons the herdsmen wear com- 
monly sandals of maple wood, fastened to the feet, which 
are bare, by leathern straps. In the mountain districts 
beards are not often worn, whilst in other parts they are 
more common. 

In Canton Lucerne there were different costumes in dif- 
ferent parts. In the town of Lucerne, and in the plain 
part of the Canton, the men formerly wore wide trousers, a 
waistcoat, a woollen coat without buttons, and a conical hat. 
In the country a long red shirt was worn sometimes, and a 
straw hat. In the town changes took place much faster, 
and both men and women began to dress after the French 
fashion. 

The different way of dressing the hair by girls and mar- 
ried women remained longest, but even that has long since 
disappeared. 

Up to the end of last century the peasants in the plain 
part of the Canton wore a red (or bright blue) coat, a red 
waistcoat, worn wide open, but with strings to draw it to- 
gether, blue breeches reaching to the hips, and white stock- 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 299 

ings up to the knees, and fastened with a black leather strap 
over the breeches, a loose black necktie, a broad felt hat 
with a round top, and shoes with red laces. In Weggis, at 
the base of the Rigi, at present both men and women dress 
much like those in the town. 

The houses in the Forest Cantons were in former times 
alike in town and country. Originally they were built en- 
tirely of wood, with small rooms and narrow windows set 
with little round panes. In the town of Lucerne the dan- 
ger of fires, and the serious losses incurred by them, led to 
the substitution of stone houses. 

In the country, on the other hand, they still remain, but 
in a different form. Instead of being built entirely of wood, 
the foundation and the walls (at least in front of the house), 
to a height of six or eight feet, are of masonry. Upon this 
the upper stories^-of wood are raised. In the lower part are 
cellars; above these, in front, are the living and bedrooms; 
behind, the kitchen, storerooms, threshing-floor, and sta- 
bles. On the upper floor there is an outer gallery. 
In Entlebuch this runs all round the house. The roof 
generally projects widely in front, but only slightly at 
the back and ends of the house. In the older houses the 
roof is covered with large pine shingles, kept in their places 
by heavy stones, in the case of newer houses with tiles. 
The cantonal regulation insists on this in the lower com- 
munes, and in those lying higher up strongly recommend it, 
and the insurance societies of Lucerne stipulate for tiled or 
slated roofs, and in the case of buildings in remote situa- 
tions only allow roofs of thatch or shingle when the local 
authorities have given permission. They insist also on the 
kitchen having a stone chimney, which must rise two to 
four feet above the roof, and the old-fashioned wooden 



300 SWITZERLAND 

smoke catchers are quite forbidden. The farmhouses in 
the Forest Cantons are mostly of the same type. They are 
perhaps seen to most advantage in the Canton Unter- 
walden, and especially in the Half-canton Obwalden. 
Seldom are houses to be seen handsomer, cleaner, or more 
commodious than here. The front of the houses generally 
looks to the south-east. The first floor contains the prin- 
cipal living-room, and a smaller one ; the largest bedroom 
reserved for the use of the elders ; and the kitchen. The 
smaller living-room is generally the favourite apartment, in 
which the prettiest and most valued household objects are 
collected, to which they repair to discuss family secrets, or 
in times of trouble to open their hearts in prayer before the 
image of their crucified Saviour. The upper story contains 
the other bedrooms. Above these, under the roof, is a 
storeroom for dried provisions, and other objects. The 
living apartments are often handsomely pmnelled, and the 
walls adorned with pictures of saints, or of favourite clergy. 
A clock (from the Black Forest) is generally to be found, 
and the holy-water vase by the door is never wanting. The 
garden by the house is planted with old-fashioned, but 
favourite flowers, and on the front of the house a pear tree, 
and in the warmer districts sometimes a vine is trained up 
to the roof. Between the windows is not unfrequently seen 
a fresco, which in Obwald is generally that of the sainted 
Nicholas von der Flue. Sometimes, especially in Canton 
Uri, the windows are so close together as to occupy almost 
the whole side of the house. The shutters are then made 
to slide into an opening in the woodwork below. Above 
each row of windows, at the ends of the house, run small 
separate roofs, as a protection in stormy weather. 

The houses in Unterwalden are distinguished for clean- 




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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 301 

liness above the other Cantons. In this respect Canton 
Uri ranks the lowest, the houses in the Reussthal and Ur- 
seren being often smoke-blaclcened and dirty, though they are 
cleaner in the communes which are on the Lake of Lucerne. 

In the hill part of Canton Lucerne are often found houses 
which are protected from the weather on the exposed sides 
by rows of small shingles, rounded at the end, and overlap- 
ping each other. 

In Canton Uri there is often attached to the ceiling of the 
living-room, above the table, a movable wooden rod, or a 
wooden chain, from which the lamp is suspended ; and in 
the middle room, depending by a string from the ceiling, is 
a rude figure of a dove, representing the third person of the 
Trinity. 

In a country like Switzerland, where the breeding of cat- 
tle is so extensively carried on, it might be expected that 
meat would be extensively and commonly used. But it is 
not so, except in the towns. While many use but little 
meat, for want of means, many well-to-do families, especially 
the farmers refrain from it from old habits, and from motives 
of economy. On festive occasions, visits of friends, how- 
ever, it is lavishly exhibited and roast pork is offered even 
with the morning's cofFee. 

The principal articles of food are potatoes,- — which are 
extensively grown ; dried fruits — apples and pears — which 
are generally divided into four and dried. But, above all, 
milk and its products — butter, cheese, etc., — are consumed, 
especially in the hill districts. The value of these prod- 
ucts which are consumed in Switzerland is estimated at 
;£"4,ooo,ooo. Bread is, of course, largely used ; but in 
many cases it is replaced by dried fruit, or by the products 
of milk, such as curds. Buttermilk, with bread or potatoes. 



302 SWITZERLAND 

often forms the midday meal ; and at all meals cheese is 
exhibited. 

From cream many delicate dishes are produced, which 
the herdsmen on the Alps prepare for their friends, of which 
the dwellers in town have no idea. For instance, in Uri, 
sweet cheesecurds, stewed in cream, and then baked with 
fresh butter. 

Before the introduction of coffee, soup was the regular 
morning meal. Now the use of coffee is universal, and 
coffee not unfrequently appears at all meals. The coffee 
which is offered on an alp by the senner to an honoured 
guest is such as the best hotel could not produce, the finest 
coffee being put direct into the boiling cream. 

The most marked feature in the character of the in- 
habitants of the Forest Cantons is the sense of independ- 
ence. Occupied as they are almost entirely with cattle 
breeding and pastoral pursuits, they are seldom inclined, 
even if they have spare time, to follow any other occupa- 
tion. They regard the artisan as being in a position of 
dependence, and prefer to produce their own food to ob- 
taining it by working for others. They are, however, ex- 
tremely desirous of obtaining ofHces in the Canton, which, 
however poorly paid, are positions of influence. Also, 
when once in office, they afterwards retain the title, 
Rathsher (member of council) Landamman, which gives 
them dignity and importance. 

The inhabitants of Uri, above the others, are grave and 
conscientious, insomuch that Uri has been called the con- 
science of Switzerland. Though their amusements are 
often noisy, they seldom terminate in strife. The hard 
life of this pastoral people, and their struggle with nature 
on the alps, gives them confidence and self-reliance. 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 303 

Though the feeling of family responsibility is not per- 
haps so strong in the Forest Cantons as in some parts of 
Switzerland, yet great importance is attached to it. As in 
the Highlands of Scotland, so a native of Schwyz would be 
asked, not what his name, but what his clan was. These 
clans were so extended that a law was passed forbidding 
more than one member of a clan (^geschlecht) to sit in court 
or council. The clan meetings were all powerful in for- 
warding the interests of its members ; but they were also 
the cause of much scandal. In them conspiracies might 
be hatched; and, if strongly reactionary, all useful reforms 
might be opposed. These clans or families are still to be 
found, as in Schwyz those of Reding and Schorno, in 
Unterwalden, Moss and Deschwanden, in Lucerne, PfyfFer 
and Balthasar. 

The sense of the responsibility attached to the heads of 
families has in a way affected marriages in Switzerland. 
More consideration is given to the means of supporting a 
household, and consequently there are not so many early 
marriages, and not so many love matches. As the com- 
munes have to maintain their own poor, the local au- 
thorities used to do their best to prevent poor families 
growing up amongst them. The rules of many Cantons 
required newly-married couples to contribute a certain sum 
to the poor box. The communes used also to refuse con- 
sent to marriages if the parties have (i) received relief from 
the rates without repaying such relief; (2) if there is a 
likelihood of their coming on the rates ; (3) if they have 
no fortune and no occupation to enable them to maintain a 
family ; (4) if they were persons of proved irregular habits. 
These restrictions hindered the marriage of the lower and 
poorer classes without stemming the tide of immorality. 



304 SWITZERLAND 

In Canton Lucerne there were fewer marriages and more 
children born out of wedlock in proportion to population 
than in any other Canton. These restrictions have been 
removed by the new Constitution of 1874. Though 
Switzerland compares favourably with other states of Con- 
tinental Europe, this is largely owing to the fact of many 
marriages taking place shortly before the birth of the child, 
which is thereby legitimatized. This state of things is 
owing to the old custom which extensively prevails, 
especially in Entlebuch and Obwalden, of the " Kiltgang^^ 
the visits by night (allowed by the parents) of a lover to 
the girl he is courting. In many villages the younger por- 
tion of the male inhabitants form a kind of vigilance com- 
mittee, to prevent the well-to-do girls from being carried 
off by outsiders, in which class even the inhabitants of the 
nearest village are reckoned. All the youths, as soon as 
they reach the proper age, are affiliated to this society, gen- 
erally by paying for a certain quantity of wine. The lovers 
in the' village who belong to this society have the pass- 
word, pay their visits, and climb to the windows of their 
fair ones unmolested. But the stranger who comes court- 
ing must either make his way unobserved by a devious and 
possibly dangerous route, or has to fight his way through. 

Closely connected with the " Kiltgang " is the " Maien- 
stecken^ In Canton Lucerne the lover, anxious to do 
honour to his mistress, plants before her home on the first 
day of May a small pine-tree richly adorned with ribbons. 
This is regarded as a great proof of devotion, and the girl 
and her parents entertain him bountifully. 

Other less acceptable attentions are paid by the 
^^ Nachtbuden^^ to girls who hold their heads too High, 
or to parents who look for higher matches than the village 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 305 

circle affords. A strawpuppet is suspended before the girl's 
window, or the farmer's best wagon is found upside down 
on the village green. 

Dancing was once an universal Sunday amusement, but 
is now limited by law to a few days in the year. Mostly 
these are the days of the annual market, of the rifle shoot- 
ing, of the dedication of a church, or of a marriage. In 
Obwald dancing is forbidden from the Whitsun Ember- 
week to that in September, on all Sundays and festivals of 
Mary (days dedicated to the Virgin Mary), in Advent and 
Lent, as well as during storms. In Canton Lucerne danc- 
ing is never allowed on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. 
These rules are relaxed In Cantons Schwyz and Lucerne, so 
that the visitors at hotels or bathing establishments can have 
a ball or dancing soiree whenever they wish. A peculiar 
dance called "^^'«^r/^« " still prevails in Canton Schwyz, 
in which the exertions of the dancers are so violent that a 
dance rarely lasts more than three minutes. 

In this Canton are only five public days in the year when 
dancing is allowed — three during the carnival, one on the 
annual church festival, and one on the day of the last rifle 
match. 



THE SWISS PEASANT 

WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON 

SWITZERLAND has well been called the "play- 
ground of Europe " ; but play is the very last word 
which one would associate with the life of its hardy 
sons and daughters who inhabit the mountain districts. 
It is just to couple the sexes in such a connection as this; 
for it is a striking characteristic of the rural economy 
of Switzerland, that the women — the wives, the sisters, 
the daughters, — take upon themselves at least a fair share 
of the toil which brings to their household food, and cloth- 
ing, and shelter. 

To see the Swiss peasant at his bravest and best, you 
must follow him where life exerts upon his faculties the 
strongest pressure, where the struggle for existence is no 
mere polemical phrase, but a grim and terrible reality, the 
vividness, rigour, and relentlessness of which never change 
from year to year, or from generation to generation. For 
this purpose it is necessary to leave the beaten track of the 
conventional tourist, and to seek the regions in which 
Nature is for the most part met with in wild and unchas- 
tened moods. Highland and lowland are indefinite terms in 
Switzerland, where altitudes which would rank as moun- 
tainous in the adjacent countries of France and Germanv 
provoke little or no remark. Thus, to speak of life in Swiss 
valleys would convey erroneous ideas to the uninitiated 
mind, unless the warning were given that many of the most 




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THE SWISS PEASANT 307 

populated valleys of the country lie at an elevation of four, 
five, and six thousand feet above the sea level, an elevation 
at which communal life would be barely conceivable in 
more northerly latitudes. And yet — such is the tenacity of 
the national character — however near to the external snows 
his lot may be cast, the Swiss peasant accepts his fate with- 
out a murmur, and from the most unpropitious conditions 
and surroundings he wrests life and health by dint of stren- 
uous toil, dauntless perseverance, and unfailing courage. 

Hence it is that to Switzerland falls the curious distinc- 
tion of cultivating grain at the highest known elevation in 
Europe. This is the valley of the Vorder-Rhein, running 
from the Oberalp Pass (6,443 ^^^^ ^^g^)? above Andermatt 
to Reicheneau and Chur (1,935 feet). It is around the 
mean little village of Tschamut, 5,460 feet above the sea 
level, that this feat in husbandry is performed. It is, how- 
ever, only homely rye which is raised — staple food of the 
peasants of the vale — and at best the savings of the grain is 
an arduous task. The climate is so inclement for the 
greater part of the year, and the growing season is so short 
and precarious, that there is no possibility of ripening the 
crop in the usual way. For that the sun is too fickle of 
his favours, and the wind and the rain are too masterful. 
So the peasants have erected in their fields a novel drying 
apparatus, which admirably makes up for Nature's insuffi- 
ciency. At a distance apart of some eighteen feet are 
placed two stout larch trunks, stripped of their bark, and 
rising fourteen or sixteen feet high. From these posts 
lighter poles stretch horizontally from the ground upwards 
at intervals of eighteen inches ; and to them the corn is 
fastened in wisps, thus exposing it to the free action of the 
sun and wind, of which there is generally more of the lat- 



3o8 SWITZERLAND 

ter than the former. As one lot is ripened another takes 
its place, until the whole of the scanty crop is cleared away, 
none too soon for the brief autumn of bleak Tschamut. 

But valleys like that of the Vorder-Rhein are as Eden it- 
self in fertility, productiveness, and amenity of life, com- 
pared with many of the highland regions in which large 
communities live, and, as a prior condition of so doing, as- 
sert control and sway over the forward forces of Nature. 
Follow the peasants to the alps which lie far beyond the 
reach of either railway or diligence, and a far more vivid 
idea will be obtained of the stern battle of life which they 
have perpetually to wage. 

A concrete example will bring the facts home to the 
reader better than any amount of generalization. And first 
as to the technical meaning of the word " alp." The 
idea which it most commonly conveys to the mind is that 
of a peak, more or less inaccessible, whose farthest sum- 
mits are shrouded in eternal snow ; and the idea is right so 
far as it goes. But to the Swiss peasant the word suggests 
other and pleasanter associations. His " alps " are the 
patches of grassland high in the mountains, upon which he 
can pasture his cattle in summer. These ^' alps " are scat- 
tered all over the mountain ranges, and play a very impor- 
tant part in the agricultural life of the country. For the 
greater part of the year they are covered with snow, and 
often these tracts of fresh verdure lie amongst glacier and 
Firn^ which are proof against the hottest rays of the August 
sun, so that, during several months of the year, winter and 
summer exist side by side. 

Typical " alps " are those lying at the head of the Goes- 
chenen Valley {Goeschentr That)^ a valley which runs west 
from the well-known village of Goeschenen, where the St. 



THE SWISS PEASANT 309 

Gotthard tunnel begins, and through which flows the tur- 
bulent River Reuss, fresh from its rise at the foot of the 
Kehle Glacier, on the way to the Lake of Lucerne. Goes- 
chenen itself is 3,640 feet high ; and, by the time you reach 
the head of the valley — a three hours' march by a rough 
footway — you are well over 6,000 feet above sea level. 
For your pains you are then rewarded by half a mile of plain 
walking, for, before the valley loses itself in the mountains, 
it takes the form of a wide plateau, in the centre of which 
lies the Goeschenen Alp village, a handful of huts of the 
ordinary Swiss type, clustering round a rude little chapel. 
Lofty heights soar on every hand, their summits shrouded 
in ice and snow; and imposing glaciers, not too difficult of 
access, attest the sternness of the climate. What a life it 
is which these peasants lead! They have a saying at 
Maloja that the year Is divided in that part of the Engadine 
into nine months of winter and three months of cold weather; 
and certain it is that from six to ten feet of snow are no un- 
common feature of the landscape there on May Day, while 
the visitors' season is over long before the fall of the leaf. 
In the Goeschenen Valley, Nature Is even more hospi- 
table. The summer is far advanced before the snow beats 
retreat into the hills, and leaves the pastures cold, dead, and 
water-logged. Yet snow falls quite commonly in June ; and 
if you penetrate the valley in that month you may be sure 
that the way will carry you through huge snow drifts cut in 
twain from a height of twelve or sixteen feet, or across 
miniature avalanches which conveniently bridge for you 
the foaming river beneath. The husbandry of the valley is 
of the most restricted kind. The cultivation of corn of any 
kind Is impossible ; and even the few roods of potatoes 
grown are never ripened without difficulty, and sometimes 



310 SWITZERLAND 

not at all. Gardens are superfluous, for little or nothing 
would grow in them. A head of lettuce or a miniature 
onion may be enticed from the niggardly ground by the end 
of July, but that is all. Grass is grown for the winter fod- 
der j but though rich and sweet, thanks to the Alpine flora, 
which redeems the landscape from desolation — for there 
are no trees save a single hardy stone-pine (The Arve) it is 
short and stubby, and is housed in penuriously light crops. 
Only stern, steely endurance and invincible pertinacity, 
combined with a spirit of resignation, which expects little 
from life the brave toilers of the valley to win a large liveli- 
hood from Nature elsewhere so bountiful in her blessings. 
No wonder that, though the peasants are nominally the 
owners of the land, these are heavily mortgaged ; so that 
it is as the most resolute of them can do to keep the house- 
hold together, and at the same time pay the interest on 
loans contracted long ago by their fathers. There is tax- 
ation to bear, but it is light — though on the other hand the 
service which the state and the cantonal authorities render 
to this isolated population is limited enough — yet even a 
little tells upon resources which entirely lack elasticity. 
The peasants pay dues upon their stock \ five francs upon 
grown cattle, two francs upon young animals, and seventy- 
five centimes upon goats. Sheep they do not keep, as be- 
ing unserviceable where the herbage has to be sought 
amongst the rocks. 

One might expect that the inhabitants of a wild region 
like this would easily become victims of the modern mania 
for migration, — that for them the most imposing prospect 
would be that of the rough footway which leads down into 
the more fertile lowlands. Such however, is not the fact. 
I questioned a peasant on the subject. " Why don't you 



THE SWISS PEASANT 311 

young folk go to the towns ? " I asked in sheer curiosity. 
With a wave of the hand, and a look to the hills, he 
quickly replied : " Heimath ist am allerhesten ! " (" Home 
is best of all.*') It was the true Swiss spirit which spoke 
here, — the characteristic attachment to the beloved place of 
birth and upbringing which, in the hardy mountaineer, 
amounts to a sacred passion. For " Heimath " to him 
means, not the confederation, not even the Canton or the 
commune to which he happens to belong, but the far-away 
nook amongst the mountains in which he and his fathers 
before him first saw the light. 

Shut up in their sequestered valley, the peasants have 
little communication with the outside world ; and many of 
them never go a mile away from year's beginning to year's 
end. When a death occurs, which is not often, a rude 
coffin is nailed together by homely yet tender hands, for 
there is no carpenter or artificer of any kind in the valley, 
and is carried shoulder high all the long way to 
Goeschenen, since there is no burial ground nearer. 
Should such an event happen, however, in winter, when 
the pass is snowed up, the coffin has to be dispensed with, 
and the body, covered by a shroud, is placed upon a 
carrier's " back-saddle " {Traggahel)^ and upon the backs of 
half a dozen strong men, each taking his turn, the weird 
burden is carried to its last resting place. Nor is medical 
aid available in the extremities of sickness. 

The religious needs of the peasantry are ministered to 
by a priest of middle age, a man of the people who is able 
to speak to his simple flock in the uncouth patoh of their 
valley, and to think with them in the thoughts of their 
stunted and unimaginative minds. He lives alone in a 
little house near the chapel, a wooden erection like the 



312 SWITZERLAND 

rest, with nothing in its exterior to denote that it is the 
abode of reverence. Calling upon him there, you find 
him, a genial entertainer, ready to converse freely upon the 
life and character of his humble parishioners, of vv^hose in- 
dustry, manly fight with poverty, excellent morality, quiet 
demeanour, and, above all, contentment and happiness, even 
in the hard lot which is theirs from childhood to age, he 
cannot speak too highly. " Happiness ! " I echoed, as the 
words left his lips; for the suggestion seemed so in- 
congruous. " Yes, happiness," was the emphatic 
rejoinder; "for they are poor, they live healthy and 
independent lives, and, at the worst, they are better off 
than the poor of the towns." He is a sort of man of-all 
work, this honest and faithful priest. He christens, he 
marries, he buries ; he admonishes and confesses ; he 
counsels in difiiculties and cheers in adversity ; he directs 
the common conscience of the valley, so far as it is 
troubled by that awkward institution. He is also the 
schoolmaster ; he " rears the tender thought " and " teaches 
the young idea how to shoot." The curriculum is not 
elaborate, though the priest saw no reason to apologize for 
this. " Reading, writing and summing, with a Httle 
geography of Switzerland — that is all we do, but the 
children need no more." 

On the remote Frutt Alp, high above the Melchthal, six 
hours and six thousand feet by steep track from the south 
bank of the Lake of Lucerne, the quaint custom of the 
" Alpine benediction " is still observed. Every evening 
after dusk, the patriarch of the valley chants a prayer to 
the heirarchy of heaven, entreating blessing and protection 
for the peasantry and their homes and chattels. 

Decidedly the summer months are for the Swiss peasant 



THE SWISS PEASANT 313 

the most tolerable part of the year, especially for such of 
them as migrate with their herds of cattle and goats to the 
higher " alps ** in search of grass. This annual " alp go- 
ing" is quite an event in the quiet annals of rural 
Switzerland. The date at which the exodus from the 
valleys takes place naturally varies according to the elevation 
of the country. It falls in June in some parts, in others it 
may be late in July. Several " Sennen " may " trek " to 
the same " alps " ; but, arrived there, a common life is 
lived. They share the same huts, they sit at the same 
humble board, their herds graze together, the milk is 
brought morning and evening to the same dairymen, by them 
to be promptly scalded and so turned into cheese. The 
whole business is done on a cooperative basis. Periodical 
tests of the productivity of the various cattle are made, 
and, according to the result, are the proceeds divided when 
the cheese has been sold to the factor at the end of the 
season. Every few days one of the " Senneu " descends 
to the valley from his highland home with the produce, 
which is kept in a warehouse or " luger " to ripen, a proc- 
ess to the perfection of which constant and unremitting 
attention is necessary. For three or four months, accord- 
ing to the favourableness of the season, these " Sennen " 
live a nomadic life. Directly the sparse grass has been 
cleared from one " alp," a move is made still higher or 
further afield ; and here they settle again, until Nature's 
supplies are once more exhausted, on which fresh herbage is 
sought elsewhere. 

Meanwhile, there is no idleness in the valley below. 
The summer is short, and into a few weeks have to be 
crowded a host of duties, the timely and scrupulous per- 
formance of which is imperative, if the peasant's household 



314 SWITZERLAND 

is to meet the inclement weather with stout hearts. 
From dawn to dark all hands are afield — husband, wife, ' 
children. Gaunt men and hollow-breasted women take 
their turn at the scythe and rake, as, later, at the box-like 
barrow upon which the dried grass is carried from field to 
byre. There are gaps to make good in the sod-built fences 
which divides one holding from another. There is drain- 
ing to be done, and very primitive it is. There is peat to 
cut and stack. There are holes to patch in wall and roof 
of the wooden dwelling. All these things and many others 
occupy such time as can be spared from the daily routine 
of the farm. The boys and girls have their own work to 
do. Day by day you may see upon the mountain-side their 
small stunted figures, as they bear upon their backs huge 
loads of small scrub and bilberry roots, which they have 
torn out of the ground by the help of small three-pronged 
forks. It is fuel for the coming winter, to be used when 
the peat runs low. Wood, let me say, is as often as not 
a great luxury, for it has to be fetched some miles* distance ; 
and that means, not merely man's labour, which is plentiful 
enough, but money, which is pitifully rare. 

A cloud as of some hidden sorrow rests upon these 
mountain maidens, to whom life brings so little romance, 
so much wearing, wearying, depressing actuality. Watch 
that bare-headed lassie, over whose head sixteen or seven- 
teen dull summers have passed, as she struggles along with 
her load. It must weigh at least half a hundred weight; 
and how she slings the filled pannier upon her back is a 
mystery. But she does it, and then, with naked feet, picks 
her way slowly, but surely, along the hillside. Reaching 
her father's hut, the fuel is added to a pile at which she has 
been working since day-break. But there is no rest : the 



THE SWISS PEASANT 315 

empty pannier is shouldered again as at military signal, and 
she returns to the spot where mother and brothers are tear- 
ing up the scrub. Not a bright outlook for girlhood, per- 
haps, but such is the life of the peasant here ! It is work, 
work, work — for the idle there is no place. Brave little 
soul, some day a swarthy, sinewy son of the valley will find 
her beautiful ; she will marry and bear children ; and so 
this race of toil and poverty is perpetuated from generation 
to generation. 

But the struggle with Nature takes forms and aspects still 
more trying to nerve and courage. The peasant has not 
only to contend with inhospitable seasons, with long drawn- 
out winters, and fickle and uncertain summers ; in his un- 
equal struggle he is surrounded by forces against which, not 
merely human foresight and skill, but human life itself 
count as nothing. For, situated as his home is beneath the 
snow-capped heights, he is ever menaced by the avalanche, 
which, falling perhaps without the slightest warning, is 
devastating in its effects, undoing in a moment the toil of 
years or of generations, and bringing desolation and sorrow 
to homes which, though humble, have been none the less 
instinct with the spirit of domestic peace and affection. 

Hence you will see, scattered about the plains and val- 
leys, and even affixed to the dwelling-houses, of Roman 
Catholic Switzerland, quaint images of saints and especially 
of St. Matthew, the protecting saint of all glacial districts, 
whose aid is thus invoked against the subtle dangers by 
which life and limb are beset in the regions of ice and snow. 

As time passes, however, the Swiss are ceasing to rely 
solely on the benevolent disposition of their tutelary saints. 
It has been found that protection against the avalanche may 
often be secured vnthout putting faith unnecessarily to the 



31 6 SWITZERLAND 

test, and, so to speak, tempting Providence. In many 
places, as at the foot of the Furka Pass, near Realp, stone 
and earth-works have been built vi^ith a vieu^ to staying the 
course of a falling avalanche, or at least of diverting its 
course into indifferent channels 5 while elsewhere, forests 
have been planted on a large scale for the same purpose. 



IN CHALET LAND 

THERE is probably no better change for tired dwellers 
in cities ; and no such rest to overstrained nerves 
— those of these wild nineteenth-century days — • 
than may be obtained from a temporary residence in one of 
the mountain valleys of Switzerland. But the valley should 
be far enough from the trammels of civilization to allow 
of perfect freedom, and the stay should, if possible, be a 
long one, for the charms of the mountain life do not reveal 
themselves all at once. The first thing apt loudly to assert 
itself is the absence of those " comforts " to which we poor 
creatures of habit are so accustomed, but which, in a few 
days, we find to be quite unnecessary. Given good air, a 
glorious mountain view on every side, perfect cleanliness, 
sufficient eatable food, and good beds (always to be found 
in the simplest Swiss home), it is astonishing how little else 
is really required. 

Last year, in a mountain walk in the Canton of Vaud, 
twenty-five miles from the railway line, I passed, on the 
outskirts of a large mountain village, what seemed to me a 
perfect example of the " Chalet Suisse." To my sorrow it 
was let to a French family, upon whom we stole a march 
the following spring by securing it for ourselves at an early 
date. 

These chalets are built of plain white wood (there are, by 
the way, a few stone houses, but they look glaring and 
awkward, as if conscious they had no right to be there). 



3i8 SWITZERLAND 

and are capable of being washed, inside and out, with 
honest soap and water. 

The poorer sort have their staircase on the outside, which 
adds much to their picturesque appearance ; all have sombre 
overhanging eaves, from three to nine feet in depth. These 
are a wonderful protection both from the winter snow and 
summer sun. We have been surprised to find a room of 
south aspect perfectly cool in the dog days, for the sun, be- 
ing high in the heavens, does not penetrate below the 
spreading eaves. This seems to show ingenuity on the 
part of the builder, for the same room in winter, when the 
sun is low, will catch every ray of warmth. Much taste is 
shown in the decoration of the exterior, where the skill of 
the native artist asserts itself in telling bits of coloured 
carving — red, blue, green, and violet, set off sometimes by 
a white background. There are, of course, the unfailing 
green shutters (the pastor's house is marked always by 
green and white shutters), and the large, roomy, square bal- 
cony, well protected from wind and rain, affording accom- 
modation for the whole family, and serving often both as 
dining and sitting-room. How one longs to see this friendly 
adjunct shared by houses of our English poor ! Our much- 
maligned climate would not prevent the enjoyment of a bal- 
cony, which is a real promoter both of health and pleasure. 
Yet, as a rule, it is the rich who enjoy this simple luxury, 
which, with a little enlarging of the mind (or shall we say 
the heart ?) of the architect, might so easily be accorded 
also to the poor. Invariably there is a projecting shelf with 
a carefully tended row of flowers, and much effect is gained 
by this one row of brilliant colour. 

In course of years the outside of the house Is dyed by 
the sun, first yellow, then a golden brown, and finally it 



IN CHALET LAND 319 

becomes almost black. A few are entirely grey. The lat- 
ter shade, the peasants say, is the work of the setting sun, 
but I confess to finding this theory difficult to credit. The 
blending of the many shades on the undulating green of the 
mountain slope makes a most harmonious whole. 

Each chalet has its store of wood for fuel, neatly stacked 
on the outside — for theft is unknown in this honest valley 
— and each bears a record, burnt or painted on the front, 
of the name of the builders, followed usually by the date 
of building and a touching prayer or invocation for the 
blessingr of God on the house and its inmates, with some- 
times an exhortation to lead pious lives to those who come 
after. 

This brings me to the religion of these mountain people. 
The stern Calvinism of Protestant Switzerland, so hard 
and unattractive in the plains, is here much tempered and 
modified; and the simple villager, who has no outside dis- 
tractions, lives so near to God and heaven that one is con- 
stantly reminded of the extraordinary faith and devotion of 
the Roman Catholic peasantry of Tyrol and Bavaria. In 
this connection a saying attributed to John Bright often 
occurs to me, "All good people are of the same religion." 
But the peasant of Tyrol — from a long residence in his 
sunlit land, I am much attached to him — will lie and steal, 
for all his devotion. Be merciful, kind reader. It is his 
special temptation (I know it is not yours). My sympathy 
is with h'lm^ but with sorrow I own that my Protestant of 
to-day is more upright both in word and deed. The most 
scrupulous truth and honesty prevail. A low, unvarying 
market price, a just weight, a fair wage. If a stranger try 
to bargain, he is looked at with contempt, not to say dis- 
trust, and a quiet " on na pas ? habitude de surfa'tre^ 



320 SWITZERLAND 

Monsieur;' teaches him, we hope, his mistake. It is edify- 
ing to see the whole village turn out for church at nine 
o'clock on Sunday morning, climbing cheerfully a very 
steep hill— for, as usual, the ancient church is built on the 
highest available natural eminence, from which it pictur- 
esquely dominates the whole village— but the ascent is hard 
work for the sick and aged, who seem not to have been 
considered in the days of its construction. The children 
assemble in the afternoon for a " Catechisme;' or children's 
service, which is obligatory till the age of sixteen. The 
holy communion is celebrated four times a year, on two 
consecutive Sundays, when every soul in the district who 
has been confirmed attends, all attired in black, so that the 
effect is that of a funeral. The sexes are divided— men on 
one side and women on the other— and when the time for 
communion arrives the men file one behind the other in 
long procession to the " table " at which they reverently 
stand with bowed head. The women follow, and the 
whole time the Bible is read aloud from the pulpit by the 
schoolmaster. The effect on a stranger is impressive and 
devotional. One may well be shocked by the bare ugliness 
of the interior of the church, and especially by the huge 
black pipe of the stove, which passes, without any cere- 
mony, clean through the east window. But the good 
Calvinist mind requires evidently no external aid to de- 
votion, just as the Calvinist body is satisfied with the 
hardest of deal seats, which often have no backs at all. In 
the churchyard we found one English grave, quite over- 
grown with nettles. It is that of a young orphan girl, who 
died here seventy years ago, at the age of twenty-one. 
This poor little grave seems always to appeal to us, and we 
carefully tend it and plant it with flowers, and ask ourselves 




< 

H 

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o 

u 

< 

h4 



IN CHALET LAND 321 

what was the sad history of " Rose Hopkins,'* and what 
brought her to die so far from her English home. 

Agriculture is naturally the chief industry of these moun- 
tain folk. Neither the vine, corn, nor any edible grain 
will grow at this altitude — thirty-seven hundred feet — and 
apples, pears, currants, gooseberries, and wild strawberries 
and raspberries are the only fruit, but the crops of hay are 
superabundant. The process of hay making, is, owing to 
the dryness of the climate, much shorter than with us. 
The whole family turn out with the first ray of light to 
mow, the women also using the scythe, and there is little 
hired help. The next process is to ^^fener " (throw the 
hay high into the air with a fork), and by the next day, 
with the help of a broiling sun, it is ready to be put into 
cock, and carried at once to the barn. 

A large net, called a ^^ filar d^^ is spread on the ground, 
and an enormous amount of hay put into it. This is 
securely tied by the ropes of the net ; then hoisted on to 
the shoulders of the head of the family. Like a tottering 
hay-cock he struggles to the barn — often a considerable 
distance — and then reappears for another load. 

The production of cream, butter, and cheese is very 
abundant. One pities the poor cows, who, once or twice 
a year, are taken higher in the mountains or into the field 
to graze, but who spend the rest of their lives in cramped 
little cowsheds, with no air save the opening of a window, 
which is considered amply sufficient for the supply of 
ozone. As the cow, however, is of a gigantic build and 
gives excellent milk, I presume no harm is done by this life 
of seclusion. 

Cream and eggs are usually the only refreshment to be 
obtained by weary travellers, who, after hours of climbing, 



322 SWITZERLAND 

come upon a chance mountain chalet. A huge bowl of 
cream is produced, and to each of the party is given a quaint 
wooden spoon, with which they all dip into the same dish. 
These spoons are well carved, and are often heirlooms in 
the family. As often as not payment is altogether refused, 
which drives one to the conclusion that, allowing for a large- 
hearted generosity, these " montagnards " are not as poor 
as they look. Milk is carried to be sold at the village 
laiterie in a sort of flat tin case, called a " boille" strapped 
to the back of the seller. The large flat cheeses he carries 
on his head in a quaint tray, with arms and legs, called 
" un oiseau.^' I use the patois of the country, which does 
not, we hope, aspire to be French. The elder women, be- 
sides the privilege of knitting socks and stockings for the 
entire family, have an industry all their own. They re- 
ceive willingly the oldest dresses, petticoats, old linen rags 
— in fact every kind of " chiffon " — with which they weave 
an admirable sort of washing carpet, which is very durable. 
The colours are well blended, and even at home this carpet 
would not be despised for what Maple & Co. call 
" secondary bedrooms." It is sold for about two francs 
a yard. I have not yet tried, but I am sure I should have 
much satisfaction in thus treading under foot my discarded 
town garments. Here one's dress is of the very simplest, 
and it is a question whether, in course of time, one might 
not, in that respect, become quite a peasant. Walking skirts 
and washing blouses are the staple dress for a summer visit, 
with something very warm and very woollen for the few 
days of excessive cold and wet which will occasionally 
drive us shivering indoors even in midsummer. We 
certainly cannot pretend to an equable climate. 

The native refinement of the peasantry is wonderful, 



IN CHALET LAND 323 

though of what we understand by the degraded term 
" gentlepeople " there is absolutely none. Of Nature's 
gentlefolk there are indeed many. I wish I could intro- 
duce my reader to our friendly old landlord, who, with his 
worthy wife, lives in the lower part of our chalet. I took 
him at first for a gardener — a tall, spare old man, working 
in his shirt-sleeves, who received me with a gentle dignity 
and courtesy which would not disgrace an arch-bishop. He 
and his wife have no servants ; they do their own work, 
and gather their own crops with but little help. Yet there 
is no more important person in the whole neighbourhood 
than " Monsieur Durienpere.'* He owns a fair amount of 
land, is president of the village, treasurer of the infirmary, 
head of the workhouse, and general relieving officer, so to 
speak. All these unpaid responsibilities call him much 
away, and are looked upon by his wife with mingled pride 
and sorrow. She is much alone in consequence, and yet 
there is the consolation " Mais oui^ mon mari est indispen- 
sable au village.^* Then there is the portly young banker — 
married to the richest heiress of the place — who milks his own 
cow and makes his own hay. The business of banking does 
not pay, apparently, and it is amusing to see him, three times a 
day, patiently going, " vers sa vache^^ attending to the im- 
mured and solitary beast, who gives forth excellent milk, 
quite worthy of a lengthy inscription under which she lives. 
The banker's quiverful of sturdy little boys are an excellent 
testimony to the quality of the milk ; and their manners, 
like those of every little urchin in the place, are delightful. 
Their interest in '^'' ces dames *^ is sincere and keen, and 
they never fail to take off their hats with the hearty 
"^^/Va," which is the common salutation both for meeting 
and parting. Their bearing generally well conveys their 



324 SWITZERLAND 

own idea of a friendly equality not devoid of respect. Very 
upsetting to English ideas are the number of commissions 
given to our driver whenever we hire a carriage for a dis- 
tant drive. We set out, of course, with a feeble notion 
that a carriage and driver, hired and paid for by ourselves, 
was, for the time being, all our own. But no ! An ine- 
radicable principle of mountain Switzerland is " thrift." If 
cur driver can execute the commission it will save certainly 
a stamp, and perhaps the expense of a special messenger. 
So it was no uncommon thing for a woman to stop our 
coachman : " My sister lives in the last house in such-and- 
such a village. Will you please give her my best love, 
and tell her, etc., etc. ? " or some errand of a like nature. 
A boy pursued the carriage some distance one day with a 
watch to be given to his brother in some place which was 
on our way. Our leave is never asked, but we are ex- 
pected to wait (and let us admit that we do wait) in the 
village street till the errand is satisfactorily executed. On 
the whole it does us no harm to have our insular notions 
upset, and we hope to return to England two wiser and less 
exacting women. 

Not to give too couleur de rose an account, I will frankly 
own that one must go through a good deal to set up even 
the semblance of a comfortable English home under the 
circumstances. Our chalet^ standing with a quaint little 
dignity in its little plot of white-railed garden, where peas, 
cabbages, lettuces, and old fashioned garden flowers smile 
away in queer little rows in front of our sitting-room win- 
dows, our creeper-covered balcony, and inside the dainty 
spotlessness of our wooden walls, looks most inviting; but 
there is more to do, we find, than simply to lie down in 
our soft white beds. In twenty-four hours we discover 



IN CHALET LAND 325 

that our two Swiss maidens think " civilization " the Eng- 
lish for " hetise." They know how to scrub and clean — 
in fact, the everlasting cleaning necessitated a strike on our 
part ; for we could stand it no longer. But, in everything 
concerning the niceties of life, one comes to a blank wall 
of ignorance very hard to break down. The laying of the 
table and waiting thereat are a mystery, which even now, 
after twelve weeks' trial, is scarcely fathomed. A friend, 
who laid her own table with some care, told me it was 
considered so mysterious a work of art that she used to 
hear her maid bringing in various friends and relations to 
wonder and admire. 

We took our cook " Celeste " entirely on the score of 
her " devotion to our person," to borrow a royal expres- 
sion; but in a few days we felt anything but royal, her 
ideas of cooking being most eccentric. She would put the 
potatoes on soon after breakfast, and let them boil a little, 
cool a little, and then boil a second and third time. 
Finally, they sat on the kitchen table and degenerated 
into a tepid, sodden mass whose sole virtue was economy, 
for we could not eat them at all. 

In self-defence I one day made a cake, and left Celeste 
to bake it. She let the fire out at least three times during 
the baking, and brought the cake twice to me on the bal- 
cony remarking that we should be fortunate if it were done 
to-morrow. As I had forgotten the butter, it is perhaps 
well to draw a modest veil over the result. 

Our parlourmaid " Rosine," who does not sleep in the 
house, comes regularly, with broad, smiling face, to shake 
hands and say " Good-night '* before she goes home. Swiss 
maids have no idea of tidying themselves and "presenting 
arms " in the afternoon, as their English sisters would do. 



326 SWITZERLAND 

We invited friends to tea, and insisted on clean caps and 
aprons. No one could have looked more fresh and dainty ; 
but just as we expected our tea-party, Celeste, with a laud- 
able desire not to waste time, encamps outside the front 
door, and proceeds to polish, with many doubtful looking 
rags, a whole array of brass candlesticks. To our horror, 
we find our plate is also cleaned in this prominent position, 
for Rosine has never heard of a thief. Our boots, I regret 
to say, after some needful repairs, lived outside for half a 
day, in full view of the highroad. Perhaps Celeste's most 
trying performance was when I confided to her my dress, 
from which she begged to clean a single grease spot. To 
my dismay, that afternoon I descried in the public washing- 
trough a black mass, a shapeless, melancholy pulp, which 
proved on investigation to be my decent black gown. I 
fear I was not much consoled by Celeste's remark, " Du 
moins^ c^est propre^^ but I thanked her humbly, for she is 
soft-hearted and meant well. 

After all, these are the smallest of minor evils when com- 
pared with all the rest, refreshment, and novelty we have 
enjoyed in our mountain retreat, and it will be a sad day 
when we must turn our backs upon our chalet home, to 
take up — cheerfully, we hope, and willingly — the responsi- 
bilities of our more burdensome English life. 



SCHOOL 

WILLIAM HEP WORTH DIXON 

IN Switzerland, the primary business of the state is 
keeping school. 
A School is one of the first things present to the 
eyes of a Swiss child, and one of the last things present to 
the mind of a Swiss man. It comes to him in his cradle 
and attends him to his grave. He could not cast it from 
him if he would ; he would not cast it from him if he 
could. 

A Swiss child dreams of school as urchins in an English 
city dream of work. He knows it is his fate in life. He 
sees his brother and his sister go to school ; he sees them 
bring their lessons home j he sees them rise at dawn to learn 
their tasks. If he is stout of limb and clear of sight, his 
turn will come, and he must also troop to school. On 
coming to a certain age — in some, the age of six, in some 
of seven — his right to stay at home, to play at top and 
make mud-pies, will cease. He is a member of his Com- 
mune and the Commune will not suffer him to live and die 
a pig. The school will seize him, hold him fast for years, 
and rear him into what he is to be : a banker, goatherd, 
student, tinker, what not ; but in any case it will not lose 
its grasp until he grows into a man. But then an infant 
Swiss dreams pleasantly of school, while urchins in our 
country dream unpleasantly of work. If school is fate to 



328 SWITZERLAND 

a Swiss child, the vision comes to him in likeness of a fairy, 
not a hag. 

Among the many quaint old fountains in these streets of 
Berne — with heroes, knights and ladies on the shafts — there 
is a fountain in the cornmarket, with an ogre known to the 
Bernese little folks as Kindli-fresser — children-catcher — 
looking up the street. This ogre has a tooth for boys and 
girls, and clutches them as they go by. A child is dis- 
appearing down the monster's throat ; three children flutter 
in the monster's wallet ; and a bunch of children twist and 
wriggle in the monster's belt. That monster will devour 
them one and all. Grown men dispute about the legend 
of this ogre in the streets of Berne. One holds him to be 
a feudal lord, another as an emblem of the church. A 
pastor tells me that the ogre who devours his offspring is 
the Revolution ; and a sharp young student from the 
neighbouring college whispers he is only Time. But 
neither man nor boy in Bern imagines that this ogre 
represents the School. A noble lady, sweet of face and 
firm of purpose, with her arms about the children's necks, 
would be to man and boy alike the type of School. 

The fairest edifice a Swiss can see when he goes out to 
walk is his village school, his city school, his Cantonal 
school, according as he happens to reside in country or in 
town. A jail, a work-house, nay, a town-hall, may nestle 
in some corner where a curious eye might miss it ; but 
a school, a college, an academy, is sure to be in sight, the 
pride of every village slope and every city square. In 
Zurich and Lausanne, the intellectual capitals of Switzer- 
land — Teutonic capital and Latin capital — the noblest 
buildings are public schools. If we except the Federal 
Hall at Berne, the Polytechnic in Zurich is the finest edifice 



SCHOOL 329 

in this country ; fine alike in site, proportion, fitness and 
display. " Our children,'* says to me a sage professor, 
" are so much accustomed to regard the school-house as 
the foremost building in a city, that they fall into the 
drollest errors when they go abroad." He tells me, as an 
illustration of such errors, that some years ago he took his 
daughter, then a child of ten, to France, and, being at 
Versailles, he heard her clap her hands and cry with glee : 
" Look here, papa ; here is the school-house ! Look ! " 
It was the garden front of that huge pile. 

It is the same — or very near the same — when you are 
out of town. You walk into some deep and sombre gorge, 
with jagged heights and foaming torrents, where the pines 
can hardly cling, a chalet here and there, high up, on what 
appears an inaccessible ledge of rock, and near you not a 
sound, except the crash of falling trees just breaking the 
oppressive monotone of rushing floods. " No school in 
such a gorge," you haply say, when, lo ! a square white 
building rises in your front. In England such a thing 
would be a shooting-box, and here it is a village school. 
In less secluded nooks these buildings are on a larger scale. 
Take that of Sarnen. Smiling on the bright, green water, 
stands the finest edifice in the Canton, and, of course, it is 
a public school. Wander round St. Gallen ; that St. Gallen 
which was once a seat of Benedictine learning and is now 
the seat of a new trade in lace. One side of the fine 
public park is occupied by the Cantonal school, — a noble 
edifice even in this land of noble schools. Even at 
Einsiedeln the great basilica is fronted by a handsome 
Communal school. 

The larger number of these schools belong to the Com- 
munes ; for in every hamlet where there may be twenty 



330 SWITZERLAND 

boys and girls, the mayor and council must provide a 
school and hire a master. Next to the Communal schools 
in number stand the burgher schools, which are supported 
by the towns ; and after these the Cantonal schools, which 
are supported by the state. The Canton is the state. As 
yet there is but one Federal school in Switzerland, the 
Polytechnic in Zurich, which has now become for all the 
world a model school of practical life. A great desire is 
felt in Zurich, Berne, Geneva and Lausanne to found a 
Federal university of the highest class — to challenge Bonn 
and Heidelberg, if not Berlin. The Federal Constitution 
gives the power to found it ; but as yet the project has been 
chilled by local jealousies, the fruit of those diversities of 
race, of creed, of speech, which make us wonder that a 
Switzerland exists at all. But several of the Cantons have 
their universities on a smaller scale and with their faculties 
more or less complete. Basle has a university. Zurich, 
Neufchatel, Geneva have their own universities. Vaud, 
Luzern, St. Gallen and Ticino, each of these Cantons has 
a separate university. No people in the world can boast of 
so many seats of learning in proportion to their number as 
the Switzers can. 

The festivals and holidays of a Switzer are connected 
with his life at school. Each change is made the pretext 
for a feast. On going to school there is a feast ; on leav- 
ing school, there is a feast ; at every stage of his advance 
there is a feast. There is vacation feast, assembling feast ; 
when a new teacher comes there is a feast, and when a 
teacher leaves there is a feast. The school is made to him 
by public and by private acts a centre of all happy thoughts 
and times. It shares the joys of home and the rewards of 
church. At school a Swiss boy finds his mates with whom 




< 

H 

CO 



SCHOOL 331 

he learns to sing and play, to drill and shoot. The 
teacher is to him a father. With this teacher he will grow 
into a man, assisted on his way with care and love, 
unmixed with either foolish fondness or paternal pride. 
With him, and with his mates, the lad will take his country 
strolls, collecting rocks and plants ; will push his boat 
across the lake, and dive into the secrets of the ancient 
water-folk ; will pass by train into some neighbouring 
Commune where the arts are other than he sees at home. 
All bright and pleasant things are grouped about him ; and 
in after-time, when farm and counter occupy his cares, 
these class-room days will seem to him the merriest of his 
life. 

The school, the pupil and the teacher are forever in the 
public eye. The scholars promenade the streets with 
music, flags and songs. All men make room for them — 
salute them — glory in them, as the highest product of their 
state. 



THE RANZ DES VACHES 

ESTHER SINGLETON 

THE Swiss are not a musical race. With the 
exception of a hw love-songs, bridal-songs and 
cradle-songs, there is little to attract the attention 
of musician, or folk-lorist. In one particular, however, 
Switzerland is singular — the peculiar call of the cows 
known as the Ranz des Vaches in the French and the 
Kuhreihen^ or Kuhreigen in the German Cantons, meaning 
literally the rank or arrangement of the cows. 

Rousseau tells us that this air was so beloved by the Swiss 
that it was forbidden on pain of death to play it in the 
army because on hearing it the troops melted into tears, 
deserted, or committed suicide, for it created such an ardent 
desire to return to their adored country. Rousseau, how- 
ever, attributes this peculiar influence to association, for he, 
himself a Switzer, cannot find any individual beauty or 
charm in the airs capable of producing this effect. The 
airs, he thinks, recall a thousand and one memories and 
associations of country, home and loved ones to the exile 
and excite bitter grief at having lost, or being temporarily 
deprived, of all that makes life dear to him. 

Although the words and music of the Ran% des Vaches 
differ in the various Cantons, the general characteristics of 
the music are the same — long cadences with abrupt changes 
of time and ending with a protracted and melancholy note. 

An old traveller writes : 




Pi 

l-H 



THE RANZ DES VACHES 333 

" As a termination to his Kiihreihe^ the performer usuallr 
.elects this plaintive and peculiar note, on which he dwells 
with long and expressive emphasis, and its effect on the 
hearers is indescribably singular and impressive, more es- 
pecially when heard from afar, as it breaks upon the silence 
of the evening and is reverberated in softened and varied 
tones from the surrounding hills. Towards sunset, in the 
summer months, these Kiihreihen may be heard, sounding 
from different points of the higher lands on which the 
chalets^ or extensive sheds for the shelter of cattle at night, 
are situated ; and it is not a little curious to observe the sa- 
gacity with which the leaders, or Dreichalkuhe^ of the various 
herds, which during the day have been indiscriminately scat- 
tered over the pasturages of the lower plain, recognize and 
obey this signal of recall ; each particular herd dividing 
from the rest, and slowly filing off in the direction of its 
own herdsman, the sound of whose horn, or perhaps his 
particular method of instrumentation, they appear to be 
capable of distinguishing." 

The words differ as we have said in the different Can- 
tons. One says : 

" Those with the bells 
Take the lead ; 
The entirely black 
Come the last. 
Liauba, liauba ! " 
Another goes : 

" The cowherds of Colombette 
Arise at an early hour. 
Ha, ha ! Ha, ha ! 
Liauba ! Liauba in order to milk. 
Come all of you : 



334 SWITZERLAND 

Black and white. 

Red and mottled. 

Young and old. 
Beneath this oak I am about to milk you; 
Beneath this poplar I am about to press. 

Liauba ! Liauba ! 

In order to milk." 

Ebel and Bridel in the Conservateur Suisse (vol. i) suppose 
the various Ranx des Vaches to have been originally nothing 
more than a succession of joyous cries, and that the words 
were added or adopted long afterwards ; that singular tran- 
sition from the open or chest notes to the guttural sounds 
and to the falsetto, of which the inhabitants of the Swiss 
Alps are remarkable (and their surprising facility in the 
emission of which, were it not for the more natural solution 
of long habit and predilection, one might be tempted to 
imagine they owed to some peculiarity of organization) is 
perhaps adopted in imitation of the sounds produced by the 
Alp-horn or haut-hois^ on which, according to Bridel the 
Ranz des Vaches or Kiihreihe airs were originally played. Of 
the various Ranz des Vaches airs, that of the Ormonds 
appears to be the greatest favourite out of Switzerland ; 
that of the Appenzellers, however, has many passages of 
great simplicity and beauty. It was the favourite air of 
Queen Anne, at whose request it was transmitted to Eng- 
land at the beginning of the last century, and was frequently 
performed by her own private band. Viotti, the celebrated 
violinist, published a Ranz des Vaches^ very similar to that 
of the Ormonds, which he had noted down on the spot, 
having heard it one evening during his rambles amongst the 
Swiss Alps performed at a distance on the Alpen-horn with 
the accompaniment of a female voice. 



THE RANZ DES VACHES 33^ 

The curious instrument on which these melancholy calls 
are played has thus been described by a writer in 1840: 

" The Alp-horn or Alpenhorn called in the French Can- 
tons haut-bois (high-forest) trompe and cor-des-alpes^ on 
which the various Ranx des Vaches airs are by the Swiss 
peasants occasionally performed amongst the Alpine pas- 
tures with such singular effect, is a long wooden trumpet, of 
the rudest construction, and usually covered with the rough 
bark of the forest pine. The instrument is pierced through- 
out its whole length and terminates in a mouth or trombe^ 
similar to the speaking-trumpet, to which use, indeed, it 
would appear that it was applied, in the Fourteenth Cen- 
tury, by the inhabitants of the Entlebuch and Unterwalden, 
to announce from one mountain to another, and from a 
great distance, the approach of the enemy. It is now, un- 
fortunately, from whatever cause, becoming rare, but may 
still occasionally be heard in some of the Alpine districts, 
where its effect on a calm summer's evening is grand in the 
extreme. When heard at a great distance its tones (which 
from its rude construction are, when close at hand, some- 
what harsh and discordant) are mellowed and deepened 
to an extent, of which those who have not witnessed its 
performance can scarcely conceive any idea. It is some- 
times played in concert with a second Alp-horn at any 
great distance, but the mountain echoes are of themselves 
always a sufficient accompaniment. 

" The instrument, usually formed of the curved root of 
the forest pine or Alpine fir tree^ is usually from four to five 
feet long, but at its further extremity, which is split in the 
direction of its length, the interior scooped out, and then 
joined again to the trunk or tube (which is generally hol- 
lowed out by means of a hot iron), the whole surrounded 



336 SWITZERLAND 

with a strong casing or covering of bark, and luted with 
wax at the joints in order to render it air-tight. In former 
times, it would appear that the length of these singular 
instruments was far more considerable ; for an ancient 
writer, Conrad Gessner, in his description of the Mont 
Pilate, published in 1555, speaks of an Alp-horn eleven feet 
long. The mouth, or bell-shaped extremity, is generally 
about three inches in diameter, whilst the mouthpiece of 
the instrument seldom exceeds from half to three quarters 
of an inch. Its sound resembles that of a muffled trumpet ; 
but it is much more powerful, rude, and penetrating, espe- 
cially in the higher notes of its scale, which scale in an 
Alp-horn of five feet would be nearly that of the B-flat 
trumpet ; and of ten feet that of the common French horn 
in B-flat basso; the upper F of both the trumpet and 
French-horn being rather sharper than the fourth of the 
scale should be ; but the F of the Alp-horn is even more 
imperfect, being, in fact, almost an F sharp. It is, indeed, 
to this very imperfection in the formation of the natural 
and sharp notes that the very peculiar and highly-charac- 
teristic effect of the instrument (when heard under its 
appropriate circumstance of time and place) is in great 
measure attributable." 

In his Glance at some of the Beauties and Sublimities of 
Switzerland (London, 1829), John Murray gives another 
idea of the use of the Alpine horn. He says : 

" There was a wild romance in its notes, which was 
characteristic in a very high degree of all around. This 
instrument is about eight feet long and its farther extremity 
rests on the ground. It is used among these mountains not 
merely for the herdsmen's call, but as an invocation for the 
solemnities of religion. As soon as the sun has shed his 



THE RANZ DES VACHES 337 

last ray on the snowy summit of the loftiest range, the 
Alpine shepherd from some elevated point, trumpets forth 
' Praise God the Lord,' while the echoes in the caves of 
the everlasting hills, roused from their slumbers at the 
sacred name of God, repeat ' Praise God the Lord/ 
Distant horns on lower plains now catch the watch-word, 
and distant mountains ring again with the solemn sound 
' Praise God the Lord,' and other echoes bounding from 
other rocks, reply ' God the Lord.' A solemn pause suc- 
ceeds ; with uncovered head and on bended knee, the shep- 
herd's prayer ascends on high. At the close of this evening 
sacrifice, offered in the temple not made with hands, the 
Alpine horn sounds long and loud and shrill, 'good night,' 
repeated by other horns; while a thousand 'good nights' 
are reverberated around, and the curtain of Heaven closes 
on the shepherds and their flocks." 

These airs seem to have been first printed in Georg 
Rhaw's Bicinia (Wittemberg, 1545) and they were also 
published in 1710 in a curious dissertation on Nostalgia, 
entitled Fasciculus Disputat Medic. The author was the 
learned professor of Basle, Theodore Zwinger, who veiled 
himself here under the name of Jean HofFer. 

The Ranz, des Vaches has always interested musicians. 
Meyerbeer arranged it for two voices with both French and 
German text (Berlin, 1828); Liszt wrote variations upon 
it ; and Gretry and Rossini both used it in the overtures to 
their operas of William Tell. Rossini has it played as a 
solo on the English horn. 

The curious will find much of interest in two rare publi- 
cations : Tarenne's Sammlung von Schweizer Kiihreihen und 
Volksliedern (l8l8); and J. R. Wyss's Texte %u der Samm- 
lung von Schweixer Kiihreihen und Volksliedern (Berne, 1826}. 



SWISS ARCHITECTURE 

R. MOBBS 

THOSE who, in spite of the ever-growing cosmo- 
politanism of our age, still cherish a taste for what 
is national and native to the soil, cannot con- 
template, without a certain bitterness of soul, the way in 
which some of the fairest and most characteristic land- 
scapes in Europe are being spoilt to meet the exigencies of 
mere material interests. 

Much is being said and written just now about the dev- 
astations of war, and rightly so, but what of those other 
devastations which are being wrought in a state of peace ? 
War, terrible in its destructive force, sweeps over a land, 
but soon the wounds of Nature heal and flowers spring and 
bloom on the battle-field. But when a landscape falls into 
the possession of those to whom it represents nothing more 
than prospective money bags, its fate is sealed. The fact 
is that nothing can stand before man's rapacity. A country 
is invaded by people who do not care a fig for its history, 
customs, tradition, architecture, whose ruling passion is the 
love of gain, people with long purses and inartistic souls. 
With the glitter of gold they corrupt the natives, and then 
the ugly work of deformation begins. The best minds in 
the country protest, but they are in the minority, and their 
voice is like that of John the Baptist crying in the wilder- 
ness. Take the case of Switzerland. Here in the very 
centre of Europe we have a country incomparable for its 





CATHEDRAL, BASLE 



SWISS ARCHITECTURE 339 

varied natural beauty, a country which more than any other 
seems fashioned by Nature to minister to the sense of the 
sublime and beautiful in the soul of man. And what do we 
see ? Not long ago that well-known Swiss artist, Mr. 
Eugene Burnand, wrote a letter which is included in a 
book by Mr. Guillaume Fatio, entitled Ouvrons les Teux^ 2l 
book which cannot be too strongly recommended to all who 
are interested in the past, present and future of Swiss archi- 
tecture. Mr. Burnand begins his letter with the significant 
sentences : " Notre pays s*enlaidit avec une rapidite stupe- 
fiante. V affreuse bat'isse envahit la campagne comme un 
champignon ven'ereux, Et il y a des gens qui trouvent cela 
beau et qui s* en enorgueillissent.^^ 

An excursion through Switzerland is enough to convince 
us of the truth of this. While old Swiss castles or frag- 
ments of them still remain gathering a kind of " pathetic 
power and historical majesty " from the past, while Swiss 
chalets and cottages still stand " in the pine shadow on their 
ancestral turf, " and the simple maxot clings like a nest to the 
mountain ridge, a host of alien constructions have sprung 
up side by side with them in this Alpine world, many de- 
void of all architectural value, others built in a style or 
styles altogether out of keeping with the landscape and its 
history, having no associations either in the soul of the peo- 
ple, or the soil of the country. Protests have been made by 
the intellectual elite of the land, and in some quarters the 
people are waking up and beginning to open their eyes. 
But, what is more interesting, a movement that argues well 
for the future has, for some time past, been setting in from 
another quarter. If the evil wrought by caprice and mere 
commercial enterprise cannot be remedied, a good is grow- 
ing up which is destined to counteract its influence. And 



340 SWITZERLAND 

this has its rise amongst the best Swiss architects. Their 
aim is resolutely to break with the cosmopolitan style a la 
mode in Europe, and under the influence of which Italian 
and Moresque villas have sprung up, even in the mountains, 
side by side with the Swiss chalet^ that native of the soil. 
Their watchword is Swiss houses for Switzerland. They 
are seeking to revive the models left to them by their an- 
cestors, and to adapt them to modern exigencies. Amongst 
these architects one of the most promising is Mr. Edmond 
Fatio, of Geneva. His brother, in the book to which we 
have referred, has rendered signal and timely service to his 
fellow countrymen by calling to their attention just now the 
significance of Swiss architecture in relation to the land, its 
history, climate, customs and requirements. 

Mr. Edmond Fatio, like other Swiss architects of the 
same mind, is endeavouring in his work to show how the 
best traditions of the past are capable of present-day appli- 
cation ; in a word, to resuscitate a national art that has 
fallen into desuetude. 

In his admirable articles on Swiss chalets in The Archi- 
tectural Record^ Mr. Jean Schopfer says : — " The art of 
building in wood has flourished in Switzerland to a special 
extent since the Sixteenth Century. The finest specimens 
of wooden edifices belong to the Seventeenth and Eighteenth 
Centuries. The chalets of those periods are those which 
have the best ornamentation and present the most perfect 
styles. The farmers' chalets of our own day are not so 
rich, nor in such impeccable taste. It is for the edifices of 
the upper classes to continue the sound traditions of the 
Eighteenth Century. All the elements exist and architects 
have the opportunity to make a close study of the most per- 
fect models." 



SWISS ARCHITECTURE 341 

The character of Swiss architecture varies according to 
climate, altitude and the conditions of the life of the people. 
Yet there is an unmistakable homogeneity between its 
varied types. In the mountains we have the chalet con- 
structed entirely with wood, its large roof steeply inclined 
to facilitate the quick draining off of water, or, as in higher 
and colder altitudes, flattened for the purpose of retaining 
the snow. This roof, invariably very spacious and protect- 
ingly overhanging the balconies and other projecting parts 
of xht fa^ades^ is generally covered in with tiles, sometimes 
with big slabs of slate, or even wood-shingles — these last, 
however, are less employed than formerly. 

By their harmonious frame-work, the ingenious combina- 
tions of wood, the artistic carving, the picturesque windows 
" double and triple united in a single frame," these chalets^ 
in spite of the sobriety of their style, present a richness of 
appearance. This, however, they lose if the architect, 
as is too much the fashion now, forgetful of healthy 
tradition, encumbers the facades with lacelike wood- 
carving. 

The principles which obtain in the construction of the 
wooden chalet should serve as guides in the erection of the 
stone house. This, too, should have a large roof (which 
is the main characteristic of the Swiss house). Its decora- 
tion will also be simple, \\.% facades ^ sometimes whitewashed, 
or showing the wood-work or partly covered with wood- 
shingle. In certain cases the tints of the window-frame 
work are ornamental enough. The balconies, like those in 
the chalets^ will always be sheltered by the roof or protected 
by small projecting roofs which may supply a picturesque 
motif. The wooden house has to be erected on a stone 
base of at least three feet to protect it from the dampness 



342 SWITZERLAND 

of the soil and to preserve the superstructure. The 
balconies of the old Swiss chalet are always high up under 
the roof, and never on the ground floor as in some modern- 
imitations. 



STATISTICS 

E. S. 

THE legislative power of Switzerland, a Confedera- 
tion of nineteen Cantons and six Half-cantons, 
united since 1848, is vested in a Parliament, or 
Federal Assembly, consisting of two Chambers — a National 
Council of 147 members and a Council of States of forty- 
four members. The members of the National Council are 
elected for three years. The executive power is confided 
to a Federal Council of seven members, presided over by 
the President of the Confederation, and these members are 
elected for three years. Each year the Federal Assembly 
elects from this Council the President and the Vice- 
President : they are elected for one year and the five other 
members for three years. Not more that one of the same 
Canton may be elected member of the Federal Council. 
The Council sits at Berne. 

The Federal Government can alone contract treaties, or 
declare war. It controls the army, postal system, finance 
and customs ; but the principles of the Referendum and 
Initiative are in force, the latter signifying the right of any 
of the 50,000 citizens to demand a direct popular vote on 
any constitutional question. The neutrality of the country 
is guaranteed by the Treaty of Vienna (1815). 

A general census of the population of Switzerland was 



344 SWITZERLAND 

taken on December i, 1900, when the resident popu- 
lation was estimated at 3,31 55443* In the middle 
of 1905 the population of the principal towns was 
as follows : Zurich, 180,843; Basle, 127,987; Geneva, 
114,547; Berne, 71,748; Lausanne, 53,209; St. Gall, 
51,766; Chaux-de-Fonds, 40,450; Lucerne, 33,630; 
Bienne, 26,198; Winterthur, 25,704; and Neuchatel, 
22,693. 

The population is formed of three nationalities : Ger- 
man, seventy-one per cent. ; French, twenty-one per cent. ; 
Italian, six per cent. ; and Romonsch (in the Grisons), 
one and one-half per cent. The German language is 
spoken in eighteen Cantons ; the French in five ; Italian in 
one (Tessin or Ticino) ; and Romonsch in one (the 
Grisons). 

According to the Constitution of 1874, there is complete 
and absolute liberty of conscience and of creed. No 
bishoprics can be created on Swiss territory without the 
approbation of the Confederation. The order of Jesuits 
and its affiliated societies cannot be received in any part of 
Switzerland, and the foundation of new convents and 
religious orders is forbidden. About fifty-nine per cent, of 
the population are Protestants and forty per cent. Roman 
Catholics : Zurich, Berne, Vaud, Neuchatel and Basle are 
chiefly Protestant, while Lucerne, Fribourg, Ticino and 
Valais are Roman Catholic. The government of the 
Protestant Church is Calvinistic in doctrine and Presby- 
terian in form and is under the supervision of the magis- 
trates of the various Cantons. The Roman Catholic 
priests (about 6,000 in all), are under five bishops,— of 
Basle, Chur, St. Gall, Lausanne and Sion, and an Apostolic 
administrator in the Canton of Tessin. According to the 




I— I 
< 






STATISTICS 345 

census of 1900, there were 1,916,157 Protestants; 
1,379,664 Roman Catholics; and 12,264 Jews. 

Education is free, but compulsory ; and admirably 
organized from the primary schools to the Universities, of 
which there are six. The University of Basle, founded in 
1460, is the oldest. The others are in Berne, Zurich, 
Geneva, Fribourg and Lausanne. Zurich also has a 
Polytechnic School maintained by the Federal Government. 

Agriculture is the chief industry and is carried on by 
nearly 300,000 peasant proprietors. 

The principal exports are silk goods, textiles, clocks, 
watches, musical-boxes and food produce. 

The administration of the Swiss army is partly in the 
hands of the Cantonal authorities, who make appoint- 
ments. The Federal forces are practically a national 
militia founded on the German model. Service is com- 
pulsory and universal : the liability is thirteen years in 
the Auszug or Elite ; twelve in the Landwehr ; and six in 
the Landsturm. The total military strength is as follows : 
Aus'z.ug (twenty to thirty-two years of age), ninety-six 
battalions of Infantry ; eight battalions of Rifles ; twenty- 
four squadrons of Dragoons ; forty-eight field batteries 
of six guns ; two mountain batteries ; ten position bat- 
teries; and twelve companies of Light Horse. The 
Landwehr (thirty-two to forty-four years of age), ninety- 
six battalions of Infantry ; eight battalions of Rifles ; 
twenty-four squadrons of Dragoons ; eight field batteries 
and fifteen position batteries. The Landsturm has an 
armed strength of 500,000, including those who have 
passed through the Auszug and Landwehr^ and those fit to 
bear arms, but who have not been trained. Switzerland is 
able to mobilize upwards of 220,000 men, irrespective of 



346 SWITZERLAND 

the armed Landsturm who may amount to another 45,000 
or 50,000 men. 

There are fortifications on the south frontier for the de- 
fence of the Gothard, and others at St. Maurice and 
Martigny. 



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